The Last Cell on the Left
by murtagh799
Summary: "My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy. I was born on the fifth of June, 1980. My parents were Death Eaters and I am a war criminal." He didn't say anything else for a long time. By the tremors that wracked his body, she thought that perhaps he had succumbed to tears. But when he spoke, his voice was clear. "I should be dead," he said. DRAMIONE! Post-War Dystopian World.
1. Where in the world is Draco Malfoy?

A/N: And I'm back! Don't you just love it when I keep my promises? Thank you to all of you lovely people who read, reviewed, followed, and favourited. It really pushed me to get things done and it's always interesting to see what you guys think. Enjoy this next chapter! It's a little different.

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. I do however, claim full ownership over Andrea Saltzman and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to the appropriate owners. **

**Rating: T for coarse language, adult themes, and violent Situations. **

**CHAPTER ONE: WHERE IN THE WORLD IS DRACO MALFOY?**

_**Twenty Years Later: August, 2022**_

_Introducing Andrea Saltzman, junior reporter at the Daily Prophet (and the only capable person on the entire staff, in her opinion), 24, female, a brunette, daughter to Ministry of Transportation workers Bob and Marian Saltzman. _

_Introducing Andrea Saltzman's extremely red face, as Ms. Saltzman fumes silently at her desk because her boss is a chauvinistic, bigoted, bastarding brat that couldn't see talent if it crawled its way past the huge stick up his arse -_

Andrea immediately crumpled the piece of parchment she'd been scribbling furiously on as her said boss – The great and mighty Theodore Nott – passed just by her desk, shaking the hand of Jerry Sanford, who everyone said would get the promotion that Andrea so desperately wanted and deserved. And by hell did she deserve it! She was the one who put in the hours while everyone else was off doing whatever the hell people with lives did. She was the one who brought in all the great stories.

Hell, she was the one who got the most fan letters, much to the chagrin of her colleagues – who were primarily composed of ex-Slytherin males. She was the one who got the most ratings, the most popularity over her writing, the numbers. But there was obviously no way that she'd get the promotion because, hell, obviously slytherins didn't believe in raising females to a place of power. Who the hell would consider something so _stupid _anyway?

Screw meritocracy.

She sighed and rolled her shoulders as she watched Nott and his new little bitch go into the former's office, no doubt talking about how brilliant they were and how great it was to be a man in this world. Or more likely, they were talking about how much Sanford was going to get paid when the (fixed) promotion would be announced next week.

Seriously, where was the fairness in all this? Nott could have actually seriously considered who was best to take the spot of senior reporter, even if it _wasn't _her (which it totally should be because she really was the best out of all of them. Obviously). But he'd just automatically had chosen the _male _he'd liked best out of all of them. Or, more accurately, the junior reporter that kissed the most arse to the executives.

As Sanford walked out of Nott's office with a huge grin on his face, Andrea's heart sank. She knew there was absolutely no way that she was going to get that promotion, or any promotion in this place. She ought to really just take her lot in life and make peace with the fact that journalism was a cut throat, male driven business.

She had no place here. So, she continued with fact checking the latest issue going to press and tried not to cry until she'd managed to make it back to her (parents') house.

/

"Hey, did you hear?" Sanford said in his obnoxiously loud voice as they all ate lunch in their drabby little lunch room. "Lucius Malfoy passed away last night."

There were murmurs, none too interested.

"So?" someone finally asked. Quite _rudely _in her opinion. "Are _you _covering the obituaries now, Sanford?"

Snickers followed, but Andrea only rolled her eyes. Some glanced in her direction to see her reaction, but she kept her face composed. There was no use telling these people that just because one wrote about a _broad _range of things (including obituaries of people whom society had long forgotten) did not make you any less of a writer. These arses wouldn't understand something so profound. In fact, most of them probably didn't even know who Lucius Malfoy _was, _how could anyone expect people like these to appreciate the significance of his death?

Sanford scoffed and her skin literally prickled. One day, she would choke him in his sleep, she would. And then she'd be the queen of the Daily Prophet, the one getting all the good articles and promotions. Hell, she'd even torch his pretentious little house at the perfect location in London. His stupid pig nosed wife could go to hell with him. That would show the bastards who they were dealing with!

"... no one left to take his fortune, you know," he was saying. "The man was filthy rich, after all. The Ministry's talking about taking the whole lot of it on the down low. Heard it from Nott himself -"

"What?" she burst out, completely forgetting her own rules about not talking to any of the brats she worked with. "What about his son? Draco Malfoy?"

A silence swept over the room, which was rather remarkable considering that the room was filled with people who normally couldn't shove a sock in it if they sewed their own mouths shut. But she did not notice it whatsoever. It hardly mattered to her that the lot of them were shocked that she'd even deigned to participate in one of _their _conversations, as reserved as she usually was, nor the fact that this would probably come back to bite her in the arse later. Instead, she stared at him expectantly, waiting for the answer to her question. He cleared his throat uncomfortably under her gaze.

So alright, she could be a little unnecessarily intense and it freaked most people out.

"Well... his son's been missing for years, hasn't he? Nearly forever? No one thinks he's going to step forward now to claim his inheritance."

"Well..." she sarcastically imitated him, much to his irritation and to the amusement of the others. By Gods was it great to piss off the great and mighty Sanford. "Why not?"

"_Well," _he stressed, careful not to be outdone by the likes of her, "he's been rumoured to be dead."

The conversation continued without her as she'd long since zoned out. Draco Malfoy was an interesting case, perhaps one of the odder conundrums of the old war stories. She was one of the few people, at least out of her age group, that had actually paid attention to the war stories, the great figures, the excitement. No one liked to dwell on Voldemort's reign these days or Harry Potter's triumph, not unless you were fifty and boring. But she, the ever studious nerd, had soaked it all in.

She knew all about the battle of Hogwarts, who had died and how, how Albus Dumbledore had possessed the Elder Wand, and how Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort with a rebounding spell _twice. _She knew that Draco Malfoy had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and had been tasked to kill Dumbledore and how he couldn't go through with it.

And she was aware that Draco Malfoy had vanished off the face of the earth – quite randomly – exactly three years after the war. None of the books she'd read or the stories she'd heard had ever explained his longstanding absence. It was a really curious thing, but no one really seemed to care.

True, he wasn't the most _heroic _of characters. In fact, from everything she knew, he'd sounded quite like a jackass. But to vanish from the face of the earth and have that be the end of it? She supposed it was just a tiny bit strange. His father had never commented about it. It had been as if he'd never had a son from the way he'd behaved.

In light of the elder Malfoy's death, this would definitely sell papers, writing about the mysterious disappearance of a now very rich man. And if she could write a hit article, maybe she could get the attention of her boss. And maybe if Theodore Nott paid her a bit of attention, she could possibly convince him to dump the one hit wonder and give her the promotion instead.

It was a fantastic plan, really! But first she would have to do a little snooping.

/

"I want to write an investigative story on the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy."

Then he really did stop shuffling the papers on his desk and looked up (or actually down at her) to stare her right in her eye. Truthfully, it was a little nerve wracking, but she'd be damned if she would let him intimidate her out of this. This was her once chance! So instead of his sweltering gaze, she focused on...well, him.

He hadn't aged well, Nott. The wrinkles around his eyes, his receding hairline, his unfortunately paunchy belly. All these things calmed her for some reason she couldn't quite place. As he shifted uncomfortably before her, she supposed her scrutiny of him and his body unnerved him. Maybe the man before her actually felt self conscious for once. It would serve him right.

"Why?" he finally asked her. His tone was weary.

"With the death of Lucius Malfoy and the uncertainty surrounding the family fortune, I think the piece will spark a lot of intrigue," she said in her most formal tone (And by Gods was it fucking formal!) but Nott had a faraway look in his eyes. "Sir?"

"How will you proceed?" he asked after an unusually long silence. "No one has heard from Draco Malfoy in over twenty years."

This fact seemed to pain him and she almost smacked herself over the head. How had she failed to recognize the obvious? The very thing that would make her very dreams come true provided that she was successful? She tried to remain straight faced, to not break down in song and give herself away in front of him.

"Was he a good friend of yours, sir?" she asked innocently. Well, as innocently as her person like her could, anyway.

Which clearly wasn't innocently enough, because his gaze turned sharp. "You may write this article of yours, but I will read it myself before it goes to press. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" she exclaimed before stepping out of the office, completely unaware of the incredulous and somewhat jealous stares of her coworkers following her behind out of the building.

/

As excited as she was about her new mission, the entire endeavour was an extremely frustrating chore. After all, how was one supposed to find a man that no one had heard of or from in over two decades? But moreover, how does one find a man that no one, absolutely no one cared about finding? He was not well liked. He almost had the status of a war criminal. That was about it, about all anyone needed to know.

So instead of asking people, she'd turned to the paper trail, of which there was also next to nothing. She'd painstakingly gone through all the old issues of the prophet, but the last time he'd been mentioned was at the Death Eater trials held after the war to account for his war crimes. He hadn't been spotted by any other news source, either. She'd checked and then double checked. She'd even gone through the despicable archives of Witch Weekly!

And all for nothing. There was no trace of the man.

Three days had passed in this fashion and she'd honestly been about to give up on the entire thing – screw going places in life, who the hell needed such things _anyway? _– when she realized how stupid she'd been. If someone were looking for a missing person, where were they supposed to go? Of course, the first stop would be to consult the grandest, largest, most comprehensible source of information in the entirety of wizarding Britain.

The Ministry of Magic.

After that it was almost ridiculously easy. All she'd had to do was discreetly sneak into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the pretense of fact checking and then flirt on the side with one of their new interns. What's his name (but no really, what _was _his name?) then very nervously let her into the grandiose room of files that would end all files on the sly.

She'd never been there before, had only heard tales of it from just about every journalist and wanna-be reporter ever. And truly, it was a sight to behold. Rooms upon rooms, shelves upon shelves, piles and piles of documents just sitting there to be explored about everyone there ever was. Well, more accurately, everyone that had ever set foot in Wizarding Britain in the past 100 years. All older files were kept in storage on some other level – she didn't know where.

But that didn't matter. Draco Malfoy wasn't _that _old of news.

She itched to explore. Some of her stories could be confirmed with just a peak into some of these documents. Like, did the Wasps seeker Dana Richards actually get hauled in for questioning last June for suspected Goblin torture? Surely something like that would be in Dana's file. And she was in the proximity of it. All she'd have to do was look for it.

But she quelled the hunger, the curiosity. She was on a mission here and she only had _so _much time. Think of the bloody promotion! If she was found in here, she'd probably be dragged straight to the Auror department. And then Nott would have to be contacted. The bloody Slytherin that he was, he'd probably fire her for this. She hurried towards the aisle labelled with a huge letter M.

It only took her a couple of moments to find it. It was the only spot in the entire shelve that had disrupted dust – probably because someone had come in here to retrieve Lucius Malfoy's file. She greedily reached for it. It wasn't overly thick like his father's file, probably because Draco Malfoy hadn't been as important as he'd always said he was. But then again, maybe that was a good thing. Less to search through.

_Draco Malfoy _

_Birth: 5 June 1980 _

_Residence: Unknown_

_..._

She thumbed through the rest of the thin folder, but it was all just junk about his war trials and how his Hogwarts Graduation Certificate had been rendered null and void. It was all very disappointing, but at least she knew he was alive. She could work with something like that. A dead man didn't really leave too many opportunities for research, especially one as mysterious as this.

She could hear footsteps.

Quickly, she began to furiously flip through the pages, skimming as fast as she could. Fuck it, but they'd charmed the files so that it was impossible to make copies of them – those damn Ministry workers! There wasn't much of note, except that he'd been charged with maiming a hippogriff three years after his war trail. It was entirely random and slightly amusing – not that she had _time _to be amused.

The footsteps were hurried and they were coming closer.

And then she saw it, at the very back of the file. It was a handwritten note, scrawled rather messily right at the bottom right hand corner of the file. It was so discreet that she wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been paying such close attention. Bringing the file closer to her face, she realized it was a series of numbers – nearly illegible and almost faded.

_SC.998.997.56789 _

Memorizing it as quickly as she could, she shoved the file back into what she hoped was its proper place and turned to meet the footsteps that had reached it. She let out a breath when she realized it was only the intern (_seriously, _what was his name?). He seemed out of breath and out of patience because there was a panicked look on his face.

"Come on, we have to go," he whispered. "Lunch is almost over and you can't be here when they all come back!"

She just nodded, repeating the numbers inside her head. She didn't know what they could mean, but she knew that they had to have some kind of importance – otherwise, why the hell would it be there, right? RIGHT? The intern was pulling her none too gently by the wrist and that irritated her mildly. Or hugely. So, alright, she would have punched him square in the jaw if she hadn't been busy trying to memorize her ticket to making 20% more a month.

_SC.998.997.56789 _

When they were safely in the grimy ministry cafeteria, intern boy looked at her relieved. As if he'd been the best thing that had happened to her since last Christmas's bonus. She tried to _not _glare at him, because he really could make a scene if he wanted to. And she needed these people to stay on good terms with her, because hell – information wasn't always easy to come by! She really ought to learn his name.

"So... did you get what you needed?"

"Yep!" Her smile turned slightly more genuine as she repeated the number in her head once again. He looked gratified. As if it would help him get into her pants or something as ridiculous as that. "Thanks so much, really. I don't think I'd have been able to get this story done in time without you!"

"I was thinking we could go out next Friday to this really cool place-"

"You know, my lunch break is just about over too, how about I floo you later and we can catch up, okay?" she said, already walking away from his suddenly not so happy face. "Thanks again!"

"Don't you need my address?" he was calling after her.

"See you!" she shouted.

The second she rounded the corner, she started off on a sprint to the Apparation points, just in case he decided to follow her to give her his address after all.

/

_SC.998.997.56789 _

The numbers were haunting her.

It had been two days since her not so eventful voyage into the Ministry of Magic and she hadn't been able to figure out what the numbers meant or what they were for or why someone had thought to scribble them down into Malfoy's file. Hell, for all she knew they could've just been entirely random or meant nothing. Or maybe they were just a serial to help the interns file the stupid files. Nevertheless, she couldn't get the nagging suspicion that the numbers meant something and if she only just _kept looking _she'd find something that would help her.

But she'd found nothing so far, and it was very frustrating. And it wasn't for lack of trying either! She'd gone through everything there was possible to go through, every conceivable possible avenue for searching and had only ever reached dead ends. Even her parents hadn't known what it was or the great and bratty brownnoser that insisted on bothering her every so often at work.

"Hey Saltzman," some idiotic jerk shouted at her across the office, "these need fact checking. Up for it?"

She sighed as the only blond in the office walked towards her. To be honest, he was the nicest of the bunch. He rarely made comments about her behind her back because she was a woman. Actually, he was the second most industrious person in the entire office! (Her being the first, obviously). But as he dumped the large bundle of papers with a loud _thunk_ to her desk, she was reminded of the fact that he was still an arsehole that thought her below him.

She rolled her eyes as he smiled at her. "Can't you at least untie the bloody knot?"

"Your wish is my command," he said with a disgustingly embellished bow in her direction.

And boy was the man clumsy. As he untied the string that was keeping the entire package together, he must have slipped or something equally as ridiculous, because everything went flying _everywhere. _As if she didn't have enough on her plate. As she got down on her knees, she fancied he'd planned this. Of course they all wanted her on her knees.

And then she saw it. The sheet with the numbers on it. The numbers like _her _number. And she'd had to snatch it like the psychotic nutcase she was. He stared at her rather oddly as her eyes quickly skimmed over the sheet, but the sheet didn't make any sense, probably because it belonged with _other _sheets of paper – and how was she supposed to find them in a paper mess like this? She began to panic.

"Are you quite alright?" blondie asked, waving his wand so that the mess reassembled itself neatly on her desk. "You could've just used your wand you know."

She blushed. Then unceremoniously shoved the piece of paper into his face. "What is this?"

He moved her arm back so he could stare at them properly, much to _his _amusement. "They're just old Azkaban numbers. You know, for the Lucius Malfoy obituary?"

"What do you mean _old _Azkaban numbers?" she asked sharply. He stared at her as if she was odd – which, admittedly, she was – and then placed the sheet of paper onto her desk.

"They used to write them like this," he said, borrowing a quill of her desk and circling the number that had caught her eye. "Serial code for the security status and then an eleven digit prisoner number. They changed their system fifteen years ago, but I bet you're familiar with that by now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked absentmindedly.

"Just complimenting you on your knowledge, Saltzman," he said with a grin. "Take it easy."

But she wasn't paying attention, nor did she care. She had a number of a cell in Azkaban and it had been scribbled in the file of Draco Lucius Malfoy – _handwritten _by someone. Someone that had put him there? Or was he there at all? He wasn't dead, the file had proven that much. Could it really be that Draco Malfoy had spent the last 20 years rotting away in Azkaban? For what? And how? In secret? She realized blondie was still talking to her when she interrupted.

"What say you and I go to Azkaban tomorrow?"

But in her head she was thinking: _Promotion here I come. _

**A/N: If you don't like Andrea's character or reading her point of view, don't worry – starting chapter three, we're switching away from it. Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to read and review!**

**In the meanwhile, here's a spoiler from the next chapter: **

_A shiver of fear passed through her as the guard unlocked a huge iron door, gesturing for her to enter an unlit corridor. She hesitantly obeyed, keeping the grand prize firmly in her mind. She had to do this, there was no other alternative. The guard shoved a lantern in her hands, which she nearly dropped, and then slammed the door shut on her, trapping her inside with god knows who or what. _

_She had to bite down on her tongue to prevent herself from screaming. _


	2. The Last Cell to the Left

A/N: Tomorrow is a holiday for me so I figured I'd upload this way early, just in case I don't get time to do it tomorrow. I just want to thank everyone again that's taken the time to read, favourite, follow, but especially those who have reviewed. It really helps push me forward.

This will be the last chapter from Andrea's point of view. I hope you enjoy!

**Rating: Rated T for coarse language**

**CHAPTER TWO: THE LAST CELL TO THE LEFT**

Andrea had never liked Azkaban, not in all her years working for the Daily Prophet (of which there were exactly four if you were counting her internship, which she obviously was). As a child, the place had seemed cool and what not. The place where war criminals, dark wizards, and pedophiles went. It was impenetrable (except for the times when Voldemort had controlled it and when Sirius Black had escaped, but no one really liked to mention those things) and it was in the middle of bloody nowhere.

Which meant that you had to get a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to Apparate you there.

So she'd shown up with Blondie McGee (A.K.A Gregory Flint) bright and early at six in the morning. There were two reasons for this. First, she wanted Blondie Flint to be too tired to make any odd remarks or passes at her, and secondly she wanted to avoid a run in with the intern named what's his face.

But, of course, her luck was never with her, especially this early in the morning. Not only was the intern _there, _but he was the one assigned to take them to Azkaban (mostly because he was the only intern working before 9 AM – the customary work time). But it was alright, because she knew that fate hated her guts. That was the reason she'd brought Greg with her. As long as a tall, blonde, and slightly gorgeous man was standing next to her, the shy little intern probably wouldn't try to ask her out to dinner in return for the risk he'd taken for her.

True to his purpose, Flint was particularly irritable, slightly red in the eye, and impeccably rude to just about everything and everyone he came into contact with. The nervous intern almost shivered at having to stand next to him. He would barely say a word beyond what was necessary and she grinned at that, even if it really was too early to move one's facial muscles in such a fashion.

"Why the hell are we here so early, Saltzman?" he practically growled at her, nearly destroying the mug of what must have been coffee in his hand. "You know I have no floo connection. Had to get up at bloody four in the morning to make it here in time!"

She swore she heard the mug crack a little. The intern looked absolutely alarmed. She assumed the mug was his.

"I guess it must have slipped my mind...Besides, did you see the size of the list of prisoners we have to question today?" she said in the airiest voice she could possibly muster. Which, in retrospect, wasn't very airy at all. "Anyway, let's beat the traffic then, shall we?"

"_Traffic?" _he nearly yelled. His tone was manic and slightly concerning, but she paid that no mind. "What do you mean, _traffic? _Who the hell do you think lines up to get to Azkaban?"

"Shall we get going then?" she said brightly, addressing the intern. His eyes, if possible, got even wider. She felt like if he put any more pressure on them, they'd pop out. At least her plan was working well enough – he hadn't said a word as of yet except to say hello. And that was custom, wasn't it? Entirely cordial. "We _are _on time, aren't we?"

He looked shocked that she actually expected him to speak and she had to stop herself from snickering. She heard Greg muttering evilly in the background, probably glaring daggers at her and the poor boy in front of her (_Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I. Will. Kill. Her. What does that even mean, are we on time? Of course we're bloody on time. Four in the bloody morning!) _ She didn't let the amusement show on her face, no matter how hilarious the situation actually was.

But as it was, she was barely restraining her smirk, and instead had to grab Greg by the arm, holding the other out to the intern. She didn't have to delay any further, the poor boy wanted this over and done with. It was much too early in the day to be terrorized by a giant blond baby. So, without further ado, they were Apparated to the rocky outcroppings of the almost deserted island that housed the wizard prison Azkaban.

And boy was it bloody cold.

The icy spray of the ocean (or was it a sea?) around them drenched them in mere seconds. The entire place, as far as she could see, was shrouded by huge grey daunting storm clouds. It was probably going to rain – or was this gloomy scene how it always looked here? Cold, grey, and depressing – quite a fitting place to house your criminals. Bravo, really, bravo. Who the hell had even found this place?

Greg tugged her arm rather roughly, pointing to the retreating figure of the intern. He was making his way up a giant cliff – which, on closer inspection, was actually where the prison was located. From what she could see, they would have to hike upwards through the treacherous terrain in order to reach the prison doors. She was going to fall down a lot. And bloody hell, she was _not _wearing the appropriate shoes for an event like this!

A wave crashed against the side of the island, precariously closer to where they happened to be standing, drenching them to the bone with salty ice water. She imagined losing her footing (a very real possibility) and falling to her very rocky, very cold death. Or would Flint save her? Oh hell, who was she kidding? They'd both probably fall and die. Or would the waves carry them out to sea and mercilessly drown them?

Another wave crashed, even closer than the last one.

"Let's go!" Greg yelled above the roar of the sea, dragging her along in the painful direction of relative safety.

It was not an easy climb, as she had predicted. Magic of any kind could not be performed on the island, not even by the prison guards and other personnel. They couldn't even use a heating charm or make themselves water repellant (a nightmare honestly, her hair was going to frizz up like none other if she'd ever survive this ordeal – or, ever get dry again).

By the time they had climbed to the top, Andrea had fallen once and tripped thrice, clinging to Greg in the most humiliating fashion imaginable. And, she had thrown only one singular tantrum that no one had been able to hear. Or maybe Flint had ignored her on purpose. In any case, they were dripping on the stone floor of the entrance hall, red in the face, bruised, and insanely intimidated.

For example, she would not usually have stood this close to any other individual, ever, but she was cold and scared (only slightly, of course). And even though Flint would never admit it, so was he. She could feel it in the way he was shivering. Intern face was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared the first opportunity that had cropped up, the coward!

Though, she couldn't actually blame him, could she? This place was really bloody creepy.

"At least there aren't any Dementors here anymore," she whispered to Flint, trying to soothe the fear in her belly. As if saying it out loud would help. Greg gave her an odd look. "What?"

"I didn't know anyone at the Daily Prophet knew about _Dementors, _half wits that they are and all."

He didn't see the nearly shocked expression on her face (seriously, she had thought she'd been the only one to notice the rampant idiocy in her oh so lovely workplace) because he was facing the man that had appeared out of a door they hadn't see when they'd come in, though it was in plain sight of them now that she looked more carefully. He was a stocky old man and he was holding the largest ring of keys she had ever seen. He had a long white beard, but it was wispy and unimpressive. She didn't think he would be much trouble, if at all.

"Hello," she said to him, even though she didn't feel like it, just to be polite. But he rudely gestured that she shut up, motioning that they follow him through the mysterious door. "Alright then..."

Flint snickered. She discreetly stepped on his foot. He made it a point to shove her through the door.

"We have you all set to go," oldie said in his wavering voice. The man was clearly senile or very productive – either way, he was rather rude. He hadn't even said his name! "And everything seems to be in order for your visitation of all of the prisoners, except..."

Her heart began to pound. She hated that word. She truly, honestly hated that word with a burning passion.

"Except?"

Could he hear the fear in her voice or see it in her face? Her hands began to sweat as they always did when she was nervous. He pulled out a pair of ancient looking glasses, skimming a piece of parchment on his desk. He pushed it towards her (_Her, _not Flint. It was obvious he had her all figured out) and pointed towards the last prisoner number. It was circled. It was _her _number.

_SC.998.997.56789 _

"And what seems to be the problem?" Greg asked when she'd failed to get feisty. She knew she'd brought him along for a good reason! "We had these cleared by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or did you not receive our letter of approval?"

In order to visit Azkaban for any reason, one had to visit the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to get approved. There, you had to stand in line for hours on end for some busy body bureaucrat to see you and approve your request, at which time they'd ask you a million questions. Who, what, where, when, why, how, what relation, do you even know what Azkaban is _for? _They're murderers! Unless, of course, you worked for the Daily Prophet. Then your request files went to the desk of some intern or another (quite like _her _intern, in fact) and they'd essentially rubber stamp it for you. She knew this. Flint knew this. So did the old man sitting before them.

"Well, yes," the keeper said, seeming slightly bothered that something like that would even be mentioned. What kind of relevance could a fake approval _really _have? "But-"

"But what?" Flint asked, his voice dangerously sweet. And she had to say it was deliciously sexy in a totally _I'm just your co-worker appreciating your beauty _kind of way. "Do the workers of Azkaban think themselves above the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Or maybe the Ministry of Magic?"

_Damn, _she thought. _Hook, Line, and sinker!_

The keeper of Azkaban visibly paled at that remark, though. Greg nudged her gently and she glanced over to see his sweet smile had turned positively dangerous. Well, hell, if he wanted to flip the fuck out over her sake, she was just going to lean back and not break a sweat. He was insanely useful, after all! He nudged her again, then cleared his throat.

"If that is the case, my dear man, I shall just have to escort myself back to the Ministry and have a word with Helen Bones. She _is _head of the department now and my cousin." Another nudge. Well hell, he was seriously getting annoying with all the unnecessary physical contact. "Come now, Andrea, I think Ms. Bones will want to hear about what Azkaban thinks of itself these days..."

_Oh, _she thought, she was supposed to play the good cop. That made _so _much more sense.

She pulled Greg down by his sleeve as he made to get up and put on her sweetest smile. "Come now, Greg... I'm sure this nice man was just following some old protocol or another, yes? I'm sure he's willing to help us, though." She turned towards Mr. Grumpy face and widened her smile. "Aren't you?"

Whitey was shaking his head vigorously, relieved yet shaking. Something was clearly not right with him and Andrea knew why. No one was supposed to know that Draco Malfoy was a prisoner of Azkaban and this man was his keeper. Someone had obviously paid him to keep the secret. How much did he value his job? She supposed she was going to find out in a couple of moments.

"Are there special procedures I should be aware of?" she asked sweetly. "With this _special _cell, I mean."

And then Whitey knew that she knew his secret and the whole charade was up. He knew she was onto him and that he couldn't even do anything about it with Gregory Flint sitting next to her. With a magical ban over Azkaban, it was obvious what the outcome would be if the frail little man tried to threaten or – god forbid – try to attack them to prevent this little dilemma.

"Only one visitor per cell at a time," he spat out, clearly frustrated that she was going to get him fired or worse and that there was nothing he could possibly do about it without having the Ministry's wrath upon him. "And limited visiting hours."

"Now wait just a minute-" Greg began.

"Agreed," she cut him off. "Anything else?"

He seemed unnerved that she was willing to play along with him, as if they really weren't speaking nonchalantly of something that was probably highly illegal in so many ways. He handed her and Greg several sheets of parchment, talking about rules, guidelines, conditions, how she ought to conduct herself, what to do if a psychotic murderer attacked you, etc, etc. She only pretended to read it as two guards entered in and searched her.

As if she'd mess up an opportunity like this by bringing something illegal to a wizard prison.

As they left the office, the old man scribbling quickly on a piece of parchment – no doubt owling someone who would take care of the mess he'd found himself in – Greg grabbed her shoulder and pulled her aside.

"I really hope you know what you're doing, Saltzman," he hissed as the two guards who were meant to be escorting them waited impatiently some feet ahead. "And that you really get that bloody promotion. That's what this is about, right? That story you're writing for Nott?"

"How did you know about that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. Had he been stalking her or something?

He looked at her as if she were the most ridiculous person he'd ever seen. "Everyone knows about it. That's all anyone's been talking about since Sanford brown nosed it out of Nott that day you went into his office."

"Oh," was all she could say. "Well, thank you."

He winked and began to walk away.

"Wait!" she called after him. "Would you really have gone all the way to Helen Bones for this?"

"I don't know a Helen Bones, do you?" he said with the largest, most fantastic smile she'd seen from him all day. But then it melted right off his face and he was entirely serious. "You be careful."

And then he was walking away to do the work she probably should've been helping him with in this dark and dreary prison. As she stood there, watching his retreating back as he was led away, all she could think was Gregory Flint was almost as devious as she was.

Almost.

/

She was led all the way to what seemed like an old abandoned part of the prison. At least, she thought that that might've been the case since they passed rows and rows of empty cells, a thick layer of dust under their feet. Some of the cells had even collapsed in on themselves, filled with rubble. She wondered if prisoners had been in those cells when it had happened. Then she imagined bones pulverized under the rocks and she had to throw away a bout of revulsion.

That couldn't happen, right? Then again, they _had _secretly locked up a very rich man's son without telling anyone – so the prospects weren't entirely promising. What if the silent prison guard was leading her to a cell to put _her _in? They certainly didn't seem to be beyond such things and no one would find her here. Gregory Flint probably wouldn't come after her, if he was even left to be free in the first place.

She didn't think he would.

A shiver of fear passed through her as the guard unlocked a huge iron door, gesturing for her to enter an unlit corridor. She hesitantly obeyed, keeping the grand prize firmly in her mind. She had to do this, there was no other alternative. The guard shoved a lantern in her hands, which she nearly dropped, and then slammed the door shut on her, trapping her inside with god knows who or what.

She had to bite down on her tongue to prevent herself from screaming.

"Hello?" she called out instead, desperately. She could hear her voice waver and instantly loathed herself for it. There was no need to panic. There was no way these people were going to leave her here like this. "Hello? Are you going to well...um – I don't know, open this bloody door or something?"

The guard grumbled something, shuffling his feet. "You go," he said gruffly.

"Go _where_?" she demanded hysterically.

"On!" the guard said, clearly frustrated. "You go on!"

And then he was walking away, she could hear him dragging his heavy feet over the dusty floors, leaving her locked behind this impossibly large door without a wand and armed with only a lantern for protection. In the dark. Where there were possibly captured prisoners, murderers, dead bodies, missing Dementors that wanted to suck out her soul, and spiders. What the fuck was he playing at?

Instead of banging on the door like everything in her body, mind, and soul was telling her to, she grasped the lantern as firmly as she could with her shaking hands and walked off into the darkness with a bravery she didn't know she possessed. She prayed that her worst nightmares wouldn't come true. Above all, she prayed that this would all be worth it.

Bloody hell. If this crazy endeavour of hers wasn't worth it and if she were to be trapped here like a prisoner forever, she would have to kill something. Probably herself, considering the lack of...well, anything, really.

She walked down the corridor more bravely than she felt (a lot more bravely than she felt in all honesty. She was ready to wet her pants at this point!) and found to her relief that all the cells were basically empty. These cells too were dusty, dank, and damp, some of the doors hanging limply and rusting from their hinges.

All except the last cell to the left.

At first she had thought it had been empty like the rest. Her eyes had almost missed the small pile of rags sitting cross legged and facing away from her. As she did a double take, she noticed the entire cell was filled with tallies on the walls, gouges made by something. Something to count the days? Her mouth fell open.

She cleared her throat. "Mr. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?"

If it was his name, he didn't stir. Some length of time passed but he didn't move at all – if it even was him. He was so still, she had to doubt if he was even still alive. How could someone sit so still and still be breathing? It didn't seem possible, at least not to her, but Draco Malfoy – or whoever this man was – had apparently perfected the art of sitting like a stone.

"Sir?" she called to him, more tentatively than before. "My name is Andrea Saltzman. I'm from the Daily Prophet. I think you know I'm not technically supposed to be here, but _I _know that neither are you. If you're in some kind of trouble... I can help you if you speak with me."

Even though she knew she was just spouting bull crap because she was scared, he didn't even stir all through her unprepared speech. Not a twitch, not an indication that he'd even heard her or that he was breathing or alive. She was unnerved. She was doubting her plan. She was considering giving up on this crazy endeavour – promotion be damned!

But the thought of fact checking for the rest of her life kept her exactly where she was.

"Well! If you can't speak, that's alright, too," she began to ramble. "Just give me any indication that I can help you, anything at all, and I'll definitely do anything I can to get you whatever you need..."

Absolute silence. She wondered if he could even hear her. Maybe they had taken away his hearing or his ability to speak so that he couldn't speak to anyone about whatever he was hiding – whatever it was they all were hiding. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought.

"That's alright, as well! I'm just going to stay here with you for a while. If you don't mind. I think that maybe you don't get many visitors often, judging from the lack of footprints in the dust out here...um... And I don't think the guard is going to be back any time soon to let me out. Though... if you want me to go away or be quiet, I can do that also."

Nothing. Silence. Not a word or even a shake of the head. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

She had admittedly come unprepared. What had she thought? This would be extraordinarily easy. All she'd have to do was get past the bureaucracy of the Ministry and past the Azkaban guards with a smile. Beyond that, everything out to be a piece of bloody cake. Of course a prisoner would want to spill all his guts to her – That's all prisoners ever wanted to do, complain and tell everyone what they thought was the right side of the story – _Their _side.

But this man, if he actually was Draco Malfoy, hadn't even acknowledged her presence, something she wasn't exactly used to (not that she would ever admit that to anyone). It was like she wasn't even there. While it was unnerving and an obvious dead end, there was no way she could just give up now. Not because she had any better ideas or was especially hard willed or anything. No, the guard that had led her here had locked her up in this creepy arse corridor with an apparently dead-to-the-world man, and had walked away.

And she didn't know when he was coming back, if at all.

So, essentially, she was stuck here until they pitied her and decided to release her from her obligations. At the very least, she could say that she had tried. And Nott couldn't fire her because she _had _tried. In fact, Nott ought to be impressed if anything. She had potentially uncovered a controversial story and maybe found his long lost friend!

But to be on the safe side, and because it wasn't like she had anything better to do beyond sitting here in the dust, she supposed she ought to continue _doing _something, anything. But what? She could throw rocks at him or poke him with a stick to see if he was still alive, but that didn't seem like a particularly smart idea. She could shout loudly and see if he would react. Or she could go back down the corridor, bang on the door, and scream until someone found her.

All in all, the prospects seemed sincerely bleak. She opened her handbag for inspiration, considering what she'd brought along to help her .A couple of quills, some parchment, ink, ink remover, an apple, yesterday's _Prophet_, some water...

So nothing useful.

Picking up the prophet, she noticed Lucius Malfoy staring back out at her and she wondered if he knew, if anyone had even thought to tell him. How could she tell him? It wasn't like she knew him. She couldn't just go up and say, hey, I know we just met and you probably can't hear me, but your father's dead. I'm sorry and all! How do you feel about that? Can I quote you in tomorrow's _Prophet_?

"I've yesterday's _Prophet _here with me," she said nervously, taking the coward's way out. "Maybe I could read it to you?"

She hadn't even expected a response so she wasn't surprised when she didn't receive one. And so, she read him the article to which he also did not react. With nothing better to do, she continued on, reading to him about the expansion of the Transportation floor at the Ministry, the failures of Orator Michael Travanski, and the crazy fans at the Weird sisters' concert last week.

"...Here's the human interest section," she read distractedly, her throat slightly parched from reading out loud so much. "Hermione J. Granger, spotted leaving the abode of Ronald B. Weasley, both war heroes-"

She stopped abruptly. She swore she'd seen him twitch out of the corner of her eye. There was a large possibility that she'd imagined it, but still. She had had to stop and look up, stare closely to make sure that she wasn't imagining things. He sat as immobile as ever and she felt foolish for even engaging in any of this. Regardless, she read on, keeping an eye on him. One could never be too sure.

"Weasley, married and settled with two children, has been publically seen with Granger at several recent functions, namely the annual Ministry Charity ball, in which-" And she _had _seen him literally twitch! "Aha! I knew you could move!"

He cringed, finally turning to face her. His face was gaunt, slightly starved, a mad glint in his eye. He had a filthy beard the same colour as his matted pale hair, and really just looked grimy in general. She supposed this had to do with the whole being a prisoner thing. He was getting up slowly, she could hear his joints cracking at the attempt, the whole process putting a pained expression on his features. She wondered if she could help him.

But then she screamed, for he had rushed towards the bars of his cell with speed she didn't think was possible and was reaching out of the bars and grasping at the front of her coat. He was going to kill her. He was psychotic and that was why they had locked him up here, because he was crazy and he was going to kill her. She knew it.

But all he did was grasp the prophet out of her sweaty hands and dropped her to the floor. He returned to his spot, not paying any attention to her whatsoever as he flipped through the pages to the Human Interest Section. But it seemed he hadn't found whatever it was he was looking for – it clearly wasn't the piece about his father for he had barely glanced at that – and it seemed to frustrate him. He threw the pages back over his head, grumbling something to himself. Something that sounded oddly like: _No picture! _

Her heart was racing. She had to admit she was shaking and scared, but more than that, she was lit on fire. She had made progress. It appeared that something had sparked his interest and maybe if she could give him what he wanted, he would give her what _she _wanted.

"You _are _Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" she pressed. He didn't answer, but his posture was slumped. "I know you are. You have to be. Your cell number was in your file at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was penciled in, so I don't think anyone knows you're here. Who put you in here?"

He turned his head to regard her, a dirty pale brow raised. "Go away."

His voice was raspy, dry, and broken. She wondered if they even fed him. He had to be strong because he had rushed towards her so fast and had held her still as he'd robbed her of her paper. But nevertheless, that reaction could purely have been adrenaline. It wasn't out of the question. She threw her apple at him between the bars, which hit him on the shoulder.

He turned, first angry, then completely shocked that she had given him something _edible. _When she caught his eye, she placed her bottle of water just inside the bars. He looked at her skeptically.

"Go on," she suggested. "It's all yours."

He rushed towards it faster than she thought was possible for someone so weak looking as he was, but it was within his grasp and down his throat before she'd even had time to celebrate her small victory. Maybe the peace offering would help him become more receptive to her. But as he returned back to his spot, the apple mysteriously vanishing, she began to lose hope. He was becoming immobile again, refusing to acknowledge her.

"You know, I'm not meant to be in here. I had to practically blackmail my way in here to get to see you. I think you know that," she started slowly, making things up along the way. "I bet after I'm gone from here, they'll get rid of you just in case."

She could see him stiffen, but he still didn't say anything.

"What is it that you want?" she pleaded, still gentle as ever. "I really _can _help you. They won't get rid of you if they have the threat of being exposed over their heads. Just tell me why you've been put in here."

Still nothing. His shoulders had a stubborn set to them. There was no way he was going to do anything without being forced and she supposed she saw a lost cause when she saw one. So this was it. It was going to have to turn to manipulation now, wasn't it?

"Alright, then, sir," she said with a mock air of disappointment. "I suppose I will just have to accept that you don't want help. And I really will be sorry to see what becomes of you. That brute of a prison guard probably won't be gentle... I suppose I'll be going now."

She made a real show of getting up; scraping her feet along the dusty floor just to make sure that he knew she was actually leaving. Not that she would - she was trapped here. But he had to feel like she had the power, that his fate lay in her hands. In a way, that was exactly the case. In another, she was pretty much bribing him. She made it three cells past his before he caved.

"Wait," he called, his voice echoing.

She had to force herself not to run back. When she reached his cell – the last cell to the left – she found he was still facing away from her, hugging his knees this time. And the picture was entirely bleak. The small, broken bag of bones, shrouded in rags, and surrounded by dust, only tallies on the walls to mark his days. It was desolate. It was horrific. It was what he was.

"My name," he whispered, "is Draco Lucius Malfoy. I was born on the fifth of June, 1980. My parents were Death Eaters, and I am a war criminal."

He didn't say anything else for a long time. By the tremors that wracked his body, she thought that perhaps he had succumbed to tears, or perhaps that he was simply thinking of painful memories. She wanted to hold him.

But when he spoke, his voice was clear.

"I should be dead," he said.

**A/N: Please review to let me know what you think! Most of the rest of the story will be from Draco's point of view. **

**Until next week, here's a bit of the next chapter: **

**I steeled myself, snatching my papers back. "Where do I have to report for my hearing then? Or are we going to wait here for an Auror? Or are you going to take me in yourself, then?" **

**Granger's eyes widened further. She looked like a helpless little doll. "I'm not going to **_**arrest **_**you, Malfoy!" **


	3. The Day I Laid My Eyes Upon Her

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the slight delay in this chapter and that I have yet to respond to your lovely reviews (which I will do as soon as this chapter is posted). My hard drive crashed and my computer is pretty much unusable right now. I'm doing this from my mom's house. Thank god for back ups, right? Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It seriously makes my day!

The following is Draco telling his own story to our lovely daily Prophet Reporter Andrea. The majority of this story will be told in this fashion. Hope you enjoy!

**Rating: Rated T for coarse language.**

**CHAPTER THREE: THE DAY I LAID MY EYES UPON HER**

_**Twenty Years Earlier: June 2001**_

There is something you must know about me.

I am not a good person. Never was, never will be, never pretended to be. So you should take the following at face value. I am selfish, I am sadistic, and hell, I probably deserve what I got in the end. There was never a good bone in my body. People like Dumbledore thought, he's a kid, he still has time to mature into something good. But no, they were wrong. So utterly wrong.

I knew I was evil since the day I turned five years old, when I'd taken sadistic pleasure in torturing the lizard in my back garden during my own birthday party. There hadn't been any remorse. There had only been sheer curiosity for what was and is the world. That day I was the tormentor. I'd had all the power and would only amass it in my own petty little ways.

Today I'm the lizard.

So, here's how it works. Either you're on top, or you're on the bottom getting screwed. And when you get screwed, you get screwed over bad. One day, you've got the money, the looks, the power, and everyone wants you and wants to be you. The next day, something collapses and _you _collapse with it. It's not that odd – that's the world. It gives you things and then it takes it away. That's just how it works. And if you're not ready for the change, then hell, you're going to be in for a great kick in the arse.

It really all started when I was a kid.

You know, I was everything. My father had the Ministry and Hogwarts' School Board in his pocket – quite literally, so hell, what was I to think? I was essentially the king of the world. As long as I was emulating my father, he adored me and my mother couldn't get enough of the idea of having her own little prodigy, anyway.

So, naturally, I was living the life, the greatest fantasy. I got everything I wanted when I wanted it and in return, I would rule over my part of the little kingdom that my family reigned over. By rule, I mean terrorize. And by terrorize, I mean I was a class act little shit. A bully, basically.

It was all quite ridiculous in retrospect, especially in light of what happened after. For what I knew of my life, I was entitled to it all, and everyone else was below me. And, you know, people admired me for it. All of them were Slytherins or foolish sympathizers, but I actually _was _on top of the world (and Hogwarts) for what seemed like just about forever.

And then the Dark Lord came back from the dead and I realized I was nothing. I had nothing.

My father fell from grace. _My _father - king and manipulator of the Ministry – had been humiliated and reduced to nothing. So, by proxy, I was nothing. No, I was less than nothing. I was just a pasty white stick that was kept around to shine people's shoes. I was spit on and tormented. Basically, I was dead. And that was just all good and well, because everyone told me _that _was the way to be.

And then Potter killed the soulless snake, but things didn't get much better because of it. At least not for me they didn't, but who else's fate would I care about? Oh sure, things were fantastic for everyone else. The Death Eaters were put away and the Ministry was reclaimed by its proper rulers. Everyone who had been tortured and their Great Aunt was given an order of Merlin to commend their bravery. It was all bloody fantastic. Times were just bloody great.

But we Death Eater scum were kicked into the streets and locked up for our deeds. As if the bastards wouldn't have done the same if they were in our shoes. Like they were all that different from us anyway. So, big deal. We had had mudblood trials and made the lot of them register themselves. What did they do any differently? They had Death Eater trials, put a trace on us to limit our magic and made us carry identification cards so that everyone would know who we were and what we had done.

Essentially, we were the new mudbloods.

I had thought I had lost all there had been to lose during the war. The raging psychopath had taken away my home, the sanity of my mother, my wealth, the dignity of my father, and my pride. I'd thought I'd had nothing left at all. But I'll admit it freely. After the war ended, things were much worse. If I'd known how things were going to turn out, I'd have never given Potter the chance to escape when they'd caught him and dragged him to the Manor.

During the war, I had been less than nothing, this was true. But at the very least I was one of _them. _They shared their victories. They let me eat my fill. They thought I was swine, but they didn't scorn me for living, for just breathing. Yeah, I was essentially bloody useless, but they gave me my fill. They gave me what they thought everyone living deserved. Status had nothing to do with it.

After the war, I was lower than dirt. Or even worse than that. They tagged the lot of us. People would openly stare at us in contempt, spit at our feet, sully us in the street, and everything you can imagine. If we were lucky, we could avoid being ganged up on and beaten the crap out of. They made us carry cards that specified we were involved in Death Eater activities. No one gave us work. No one wanted us in their stores. We had to take a separate back entrance to the Ministry and report to the Auror department each month. Sometimes twice a month, if times were especially bad.

It was all very insulting, but what could we do?

It wasn't like we could do anything about it. We had no money. The Dark Lord had either spent it all or the Ministry had taken claim over it for "reparations". Even if we banded together – which no one in their right minds would ever allow – we were still nothing because no one was about to take any of us seriously.

After all, we had tortured and killed loads of their people and had tried to usurp them for power. We had pooled our support and resources behind a psychotic mastermind that had lost his cool over a teenager. A bloody teenager! So we were literally and truly fucked for the foreseeable future, and there wasn't any respite to be found.

That was how I got myself into the stupid position of a delivery boy.

The pay was honestly shit, but it was enough to keep me going. Father was in Azkaban, mother was in St. Mungo's ward for the mentally unstable, because she'd helped Potter in some way. And I was out on my own, because the Ministry had taken claim over all Malfoy estates and assets. Me. The kid that had never had to work for a knut in his entire life was now alone in the streets of London, left to fend for himself. I had to now live somehow, if it was even worth it.

Like I said, no one really wanted us around, so the jobs weren't exactly piling themselves up at my feet. We literally had to beg for sickles or steal for a living and eventually end up in Azkaban for trying not to starve to death. So I guess being an errands boy wasn't all that bad. I was still hedonistic, after all. Being pathetic was way better off than being dead. Or worse, rotting away in Azkaban.

Lucky for me, I worked for the Greengrasses.

They were one of the few pureblood families that had had the sense to make a run for it the year Dumbledore had died – sorry, had been _killed. _After the summer had passed, the Greengrass sisters had never appeared back at Hogwarts. Word had been that they'd all jet set to Switzerland with the rich old hag Zabini (who had conveniently left her nutter of a son behind) and took their cash with them too.

That was why they had been able to keep their titles and properties when they'd returned. That wasn't to say the Ministry and everyone else weren't suspicious of the lot of defector purebloods – they just couldn't justify lumping them in with us Death Eater folk. That didn't mean they weren't monitored like crazy, though.

That was why they couldn't associate overly much with the rest of us. The second they started showing sympathy to any of us or our cause, the enemy, they probably would be accused of funding and organizing a Death Eater uprising or some stupid shit of the sort. So even though the Greengrasses had been friends of my family for years on end, the best they could do for me was give me shit pay and let me run their errands for them.

And I was one of the lucky ones, still.

It wasn't like the Greengrasses had the means to hire the impoverished by the droves. They didn't want that kind of attention. Who would? That would just be asking for it. They were smart people, though. I couldn't really blame them for trying to survive. Everyone was just trying to survive in the new regime. For the most part, I just didn't think about it. I just went about my life as if the lot of it were normal – acceptable. There really was no other way to do it.

So, I woke up at an ungodly hour and rushed all day to do the meaningless tasks people like me existed for, so that important people could go about their worthy days with ease. I cleaned bathrooms with minimal magic. I ignored it when people shoved me in the streets or when receptionists were extremely demeaning and rude when I had to deliver packages. Going to the Ministry to receive my approved deducted paycheque that the Greengrasses could allow me each month was only becoming routine.

Eventually, I barely even noticed it anymore. I know that seems bloody weird – how can someone like me adjust to something like this at all? It was unimaginable. But there wasn't anything to be done about it. I just had to endure because enduring was the only way to survive if you were in my situation.

It sucked, but I wasn't starving and it could be worse. I just had to shut my mouth, keep my head down, and not draw any attention to myself. Things were...okay. It sucked, don't get me wrong, but it was..._okay. _I would _survive. _And, I did. That's the oddest part. Through everything, even until the end, I did survive. I'm _here, _aren't I?

It was monotonous for a long while. Even cruelty and being treated like a dog can get dreary after a while. That was just the way it was. You worked, you came home to your shitty hovel that really looked more like a jail cell, you slept, and you got up and did it again. Sometimes you were berated, sometimes you were abused by Ministry officials. All of that was just part of the process. But mostly, everything was just routine.

It was in this rut that I first saw her.

It wasn't the _first _time I'd seen her, obviously. I'd seen her before – she'd been as big a part of my life as Potter had been. So it was, what? Six years? That's a bloody good chunk of my life. I'd seen her tortured in my house during the war. Really, that was probably the reason why she had helped put this bloody system in place. Now the mudblood was on top and all the rest of us were below her.

Her name was Hermione Granger, back then.

I wasn't even sad or angry to see her, I was much too numb to everything for that kind of reaction. I do remember being surprised, though. What was someone like her doing walking on the street? She was Hero #2, right next to Potter. She could've been in a Ministry car, could've been with an escort. But instead, she was walking on the street with the rest of us commoners.

It was dreary that day and raining. The streets were muddy, particularly filthy with slush and god knows what else. I was due delivering a package to the offices of Lovegood and Longbottom and there she was, right in front of me, getting her little black boots dirty for no reason.

It was hard not to notice her. Her chocolate hair was bushy and as curly as ever - that was probably where she kept her excess knowledge. He coat was a stark snow white, not a fleck of dust upon her. Probably a repelling charm? Whatever it was, it made her stick out like a sore thumb among us, the poor street workers. Only the underprivileged ever walked anywhere.

The underprivileged being people who couldn't afford cars, a connection to the floo network, apparition licences, or broomsticks. The underprivileged being people like me.

I couldn't find the emotion in myself to hate her as I walked behind her on that filthy street, not daring to approach her because – well, why would I? But I did feel surprised. _Curious. _It didn't make sense in this Brave New World, her being there. And it _was_ her. She was unmistakeable. I could've been dead and I'd still recognize her anywhere. It was hard not to, really hard not to know her. She was important in this new regime of ours. Highly important and almost perfect.

I wasn't even really trying to follow her. Truly. _Honestly. _I was curious, yes, but I wasn't exactly going out of my bloody way. Yes, I took the longer route to Lovegood's office, but so what? It didn't _really _matter, Lovegood's receptionist wasn't as rude as the rest and Longbottom wasn't actually expecting me until tomorrow. This much I could afford to squander. Realizing that I had _something _to squander, even if it was just time, that I had _some _choice or power to exercise made me feel pretty damn good.

Maybe that was why I made the stupidest decision of my life right then.

Maybe that was why I touched her.

I hadn't meant to, really. I hadn't consciously thought about it. She had been about to cross the street, looking down and concentrating on skirting around an especially large muddy puddle. She hadn't seen the huge muggle truck heading and skidding our way, right at her. What was I meant to do? I didn't think about it, I just roughly pulled her away to me.

The one thought in my head during it all was if she had died in front of me, the Ministry would definitely have blamed it all on me. They'd have probably said I'd done it on purpose, that I'd conspired to kill her. In a flash, I could see myself sitting before the Wizengamot, chained and starved, being given the death sentence. And that was enough to move me feet. That had always been enough to move me anywhere.

It was the highest punishment, reserved for the highest crimes. No doubt, the death of Hermione Granger _would _have been the highest crime.

There were no more Dementors. They'd been banished after the war. Potter had seen to that. It had been Dumbledore's will or something stupid like that. But that had meant the Ministry had had to come up with something to replace the Dementor's kiss – the _highest _punishment. No one really knew. Some claimed that they took the condemned to the Department of Mysteries and forced them to walk through a veil.

But those were just unconfirmed rumors and no one was really sure. You had to be a dead criminal or an unspeakable to know. Neither of them could talk, could they?

Then, the flash was over and I found myself holding a wide-eyed Granger in a death grip, surrounded by a crowd of poor dirty silent workers. They stared at me in shock and pity; the fact that I'd touched a war hero was enough to convince them that I was basically done for. I could see the question on their faces: _Why did you do it, mate? Why'd you have to go put yourself into that situation? What's going to happen to us now that you've screwed up our chances of survival?_

What the bloody hell was I doing?

"Thank you, again, Malfoy...That really wouldn't have ended well for me if you hadn't..." It seemed she had gotten her fill of walking on the street. I didn't blame her. It was a dreary picture out here, out with the condemned. "What are you doing here?"

"Here?" I asked blankly.

"Here," she gestured around her vaguely.

I didn't even have it in me to sneer, to taunt her like it was my instinct to. What kind of question was that anyway? The useless wave of depression hit me again, the ever present longing that had always been present since the end of the war, just with that one little action of hers. And all at once, it was monotonous again.

"What do you do?" she prodded.

"Are you a Ministry official?" I automatically asked as it had become a habit. This was routine enough. This whole process was so routine, abusive and routine, even if it was happening now with Granger of all people.

She nodded. "Yes, but-"

I sighed. It was always easier if they weren't. Then at least I could trick myself into thinking that I didn't have to show them my registration card. I always would cave in, obviously. You really don't want someone running to the Auror department on you. It generally didn't end well for you. When did it _ever _end well for me? I reached into my pocket and thrust my identification papers at her, which she took, bewildered.

"I didn't ask to see your papers, Malfoy," she said, trying to hand them back to me.

My heart clenched. Well, she was the one with the power now. If she was going to fuck me over for saving her life, then so be it. I would just have to hold my breath and hope the people on my hearing committee weren't people _I _had screwed over in the past. It was amazing what some people held grudges over.

I steeled myself, snatching my papers back. "Where do I have to report for my hearing then? Or are we going to wait here for an Auror? Or are you going to take me in yourself, then?"

Granger's eyes widened further. She looked like a helpless little doll. "I'm not going to _arrest _you, Malfoy!"

Oh. Well, that was different.

"Then why did you ask for my papers?" I asked suspicious. "Why do you want to know my employer? I swear I didn't _purposely _touch you or whatever. I've only got the one job-"

"I didn't ask for your employer, Draco," she responded calmly as if _I _were the freakish one here. She was the one willingly walking on the street and had almost gotten herself killed. "I'm not doing anything but saying thank you. So... thank you. And if you ever need anything..."

She handed me a card with the most genuine smile I'd seen in years, which only meant that she was either a brilliant liar (which I knew she was from experience) or that I was losing touch with reality (which was highly possible). I took the card, because hell, Hermione Granger could send me to Azkaban in a second. As I walked away from her, as fast I possibly could without running, I ripped the card into tiny pieces and threw them behind me.

There was no way I was going to mix myself into anything with the likes of Granger. Involving her into my life would only bring trouble and I could really do without any more trouble, thank you very much. I would always wonder, though, what she was doing there in the street, why she'd bothered to give me her card. Had her offer been genuine?

Much later, she'd asked me why I'd ripped it. I hadn't had the heart to break it to her – she was poison and I really should not have drank it.

/

The thing is, my life was absolutely, hideously boring by that point in life. Even injustice can start to get a bit stale after a while. There isn't much to it. When you do the same dreary things every single day with no other option but to carry on doing them, you start to go a bit numb. But after a while, even that numbness isn't enough anymore. You start to crumble and flake. You start to _dream. _

I had this theory that _dreaming _is a part of human nature. There's something to it, having hope. Even the most destroyed, despicable beings dream, hold some kind of aspirations that keep them ticking and moving. Without them, we wouldn't be human. Without them, we'd probably be nothing, because it's one of the things that keep us significantly different from beasts.

But who knows. Maybe beasts dream too.

I started to hope that maybe something different would happen again, that I'd start seeing more of the high society folk walk the streets with us insignificant urchins. Maybe they'd grown a conscience finally and would allow us to have some semblance of our lives back. Or at the very least, I hoped they'd realized that they couldn't just force us to starve to death anymore. Or use prisons as a way of keeping us tame.

It was all very stupid and useless, especially considering that that very week I was stopped by four separate ministry officials, harassed, and had my identification card thrown in the mud on two separate occasions. Things were hardly getting better. If anything, they were progressively getting worse. There was so much unnecessary rampant hatred just brewing under the surface, I wouldn't be surprised if they started pureblood baiting one of these days. Everything that had ever gone wrong in the history of magic was being blamed on us, and what the hell were we going to do about it? It's not like we had a voice or anything.

Nevertheless, a pesky little hope had grown within the pit of my belly, and I couldn't squash it, no matter how much vile, acidic firewhisky I drank. From that point on, I always took the long route whenever I had to deliver packages to the Lovegood office.

And nothing was ever the same again.

**A/N: I'm really excited to see what you think of this! All I can say is that it's going to be a relatively slow build. See you next Monday! **

**Until then, here's another spoiler: **

"_Think you can just talk like that to a Hero and walk away, hm?" he spat in my face. Then he punched me in the jaw. I would be lying if I say I wasn't crying by that point, but believe me when I say I didn't sob. Not once. "Think you can just act like you own the place, you little prick?" _

**To my anonymous reviewer: **I have finally watched Veer Zara, and I was amazed at the resemblance! This story was actually inspired from Green Mile and – wait for it – pirates of the Caribbean. I hope there won't be too much of a cross over anymore, but I definitely like their ending better than the one I had planned. So we shall see. Thank you for reviewing!


	4. Why it is always better to submit

A/N: And, as is becoming routine, I'm posting this a little later than usual. SORRY! Thank you, as per usual, to all of my reviewers, readers, and everyone who's favourited so far. I live for you people. :)

NOTE: one lovely reviewer commented how Ron and Hermione seem to be unmarried. This isn't necessarily the case (which you will figure out in later chapters), but it is still a relevant part of the story. You've a great eye to detail, my dear!

On to the chapter.

**Rating: Rated T for violence and coarse language.**

**CHAPTER FOUR: WHY IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO SUBMIT**

**JUNE, 2001**

"Have you taken any leave of work since your last check in with us?" asked the Ministry official. She didn't even look up at me. They never did. This had long since ceased to bother me.

"No, ma'am," I replied.

I tried my best to be as neutral and pleasant as possible – that was always the best way to get through the monthly Ministry Death Eater Regulation checkups. They were always at the end of the month. Sometimes they happened twice a month. They were always conducted by insignificant bureaucrats that only needed an excuse to cut your paycheck in half. No, it was always best to be polite, never resentful. And I wasn't resentful, for the most part.

"How many days have you worked this month?"

"Thirty. After today, thirty-one." The thought would've made me cringe if I had any dignity, pride, or self respect. But I didn't, so that was easily taken care of. "I work for Greengrass Ltd. For..." She made a tick mark on my paper. "A year and eight months."

She made another tick in my file, didn't even give me a nod as she fed it into a bin, which sent it off to god knows where. And, as usual, my heart beat sped up. I knew that I had no reason to be especially worried, not really. I worked. I was one of the few with steady employment. I hadn't broken any of the new laws or anything. But that didn't change the fact that this unimportant bureaucrat could choose to make an example of me and take everything away. Because really, let's face it, while she was unimportant, I was absolutely _nothing _on this food chain. And she didn't even really need a reason to make that known whenever she wanted.

But, as every month, the bureaucrat came back with a yellow ticket that was my pay for the next month and shoved it in my hands. I gave her my usual bland smile, which she did not notice, and thanked her, which she did not acknowledge. This was the usual treatment. I moved along so the next poor bastard could go through the same motions.

Once I was out of there, I finally looked at the flimsy little piece of paper that was supposed to house, clothe, and feed me. The number was ridiculously small: Sixty galleons and eight sickles. But the number at the bottom of the little stub was even more pathetic. After my Death Eater taxes, I only had 25 galleons to live on for the next month.

Does that horrify you? Twenty five galleons is almost nothing. A limited edition Celestina Warbeck record costs thirty galleons. Generally, school books for a year can cost up to fifteen galleons. My quittidch team uniforms over the years have cost hundreds of galleons. A proper bottle of good firewhisky never goes below a ten galleons. A normal family of five can have groceries that total up to a hundred and fifty galleons if living modestly.

And they expected me to _survive _a whole month on just twenty five galleons. Does that horrify you?

Well, it didn't horrify me. At my worst, I'd survived a whole month on just twelve sickles, a knut and a public water fountain, which I'd learned to use very discreetly. I'd been able to get ahead on my rent. Of course, I'd been very malnourished by the end of the month, but hell, I'd ate like a poor king the next month. Ice cream had never tasted so good in my life, ever. Of course, that water fountain was destroyed a couple months later, and at this state in my life, I can't really afford to lose any more weight.

I pocketed the stub without a second glance. The Greengrasses would pay me in exchange for this little piece of paper. Sometimes they were nice and threw in a few extra knuts here and there, but they couldn't afford to be too generous. Their finances were being tracked quite stringently as well. They couldn't afford undue attention to their family for the sake of some death eater scum like _me, _no matter how much they felt bad for me.

It's always easier to pass through life with a blank look on your face. Of course, that look in itself might offend some people – some people are just looking for things to be offended at – but most of the time, you don't get any trouble if you pretend like you're non-existent.

At least, that had been working out well enough for me thus far.

Exiting the Ministry used to be the worst part of all of this. People would know who you were because you were exiting the "Death Eater offices". They knew you were being humiliated in there and they all wanted to be a part of it, really. You could see them whispering behind their rich little hands as you made your way to the back entrance. And really, how was I ever supposed to hold my head up high when high meant nothing anymore? Truthfully, I was just glad to have that measly piece of paper. I was glad that I got to walk out of here at all.

And then I saw Granger.

It was really just out of the corner of my eye. I hadn't meant to spot her, though my addled brain probably did. It wasn't a rational choice to do a double take, or open my mouth and attempt to say hello. Why the hell would my brain want to say hello to someone like Granger? I had always thought that self preservation was the thing that motivated me beyond everything else. But that day, that stupid day, I found out that Granger had somehow wormed her way into my consciousness and changed me.

Maybe it was because I was still deathly curious over why she would be on a street, walking along with workers like me. Honestly, it was costing me some few precious hours of sleep, pondering that. Or maybe I was just curious to see if she really was as good as everyone claimed. Maybe _she _would stand up and change things around here. I certainly couldn't and no one wanted to. But she hadn't had me investigated or thrown in prison, at least not yet. Maybe I just wanted to ask her why.

_Why _Granger are you like this? _Why _can't you ever seem to tame your hair? I'm poor and _I _still manage to tame my hair. Why can't you? Why do you always have a smile on your face? By gods, why do you smile at _me? _

It was crazy. It was stupidity. It was by far the worst decision I made in my life to look up into her eyes. And perhaps it was smart of me to look down and hurry off in the opposite direction, even though I knew she knew that I had seen her and chosen not to acknowledge her. Maybe I should've ran for it before she could catch me in such a public place. Maybe I should've just nodded at her to let her know I'd seen her there or whatever the fuck the girl was after. Maybe I should've slit my own throat after the war.

But hell, when I realized I'd looked at her with my stupid face and when she saw me looking and smiled, I just turned around and walked away as quickly as I possibly could. As if it was the last good thing I could've done. Maybe it was. Maybe that could've been the last good thing I ever could've done. But it wasn't. Now I know it wasn't.

She called after me, the stupid woman. Right in the middle of the Atrium of the Ministry of bloody Magic. She was Hermione freaking Granger. I couldn't just keep on going like I hadn't heard her. Everyone had heard her. Everyone was looking at her, then at me, then at her again. They were expecting Aurors to appear to drag me to Azkaban. _I _knew better. I knew she was a wild card. I knew she didn't need any Aurors to take me anywhere. She could do it herself. I was powerless, after all.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged when she reached me. She was a bit breathless. "How are you?"

How was I? I was mortified. People were lagging around watching us. Important people. The guards had their hands on their holsters, ready to draw their wands in case I harmed the precious woman. My heart was pounding, I was ready to throw up. I could feel my face flushing and no doubt I was trembling like a leaf. But I couldn't let myself faint here. I couldn't really do anything but respond politely. Because if I didn't, I'd be stuck inside this horrible Ministry for the rest of my short and filthy life.

"Fine," I responded, hoping she would walk away. Couldn't she see what she was doing. She looked at me with that smile on her face. Why was she doing this? Surely she knew. Surely she wasn't daft. "How are you, then, Granger."

It wasn't a question, but she still answered it.

"I'm good, Malfoy, thank you for asking," she responded pleasantly, as if we didn't have a hundred armed witches and wizards watching our every move, waiting for me to explode. I was waiting for me to explode. It seemed Granger was the only one who wasn't concerned out of all of us. "Any particular reason you're here at the Ministry? I know you threw away my card-"

So she'd seen that, had she? I blankly pointed to the offices behind her.

"Death Eater checkups, Granger," I muttered gruffly.

She blushed.

It made me think, really. Had she meant to humiliate me like that? Surely her memory was perfect. She knew I worked for the Greengrasses as an errand boy. She'd seen it on my identification card. I'd told her it myself. What else would a poor ex-Death Eater be doing in the middle of the day at the Ministry of Magic? Certainly not working here. They didn't want people like me working at such a prestigious place like this, the pigs that they were. I didn't belong here. What could possibly have been going on in that pretty little head of hers? That I'd willingly have sought her out?

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she almost whispered.

I just nodded. What else was I supposed to do? Thank her? Walk away? Say nothing? I didn't know. I could feel eyes boring into the back of my head and I really didn't want to turn around to face the crowd. So I nodded again and she just shook her head like she was a flimsy leaf. And I couldn't bear to see the pity in her eyes.

It was one thing to be humiliated and scorned, another thing to be felt sorry for. I could hardly stand it. I almost wanted to grab her by the throat and make her say sorry. _I _didn't need the pity. _She _did. She was the one who was going around walking on the streets and pretending like everything was just bloody fantastic. At least I knew what life was really like. She'd never know what life was like from the bottom, because even though she was a mudblood, she'd never seen what the bottom really looked like, had she?

No, she was luxurious and I was just dirty.

I had to wait for her to mumble her apologies and leave me alone. I didn't say anything – what the hell was I supposed to say to someone like _Granger _in front of all those people? And eventually, she let me go, figuring I didn't ever want to see the likes of her. Which was partially true, especially at the time. I almost wished she'd followed me out of the back exit of the Ministry of Magic, so that I could ask her all the questions on my mind, so that I could force her to tell me what it was like being on the top and still do such _stupid, _stupid things.

Like talk to someone like me.

As I exited into the back alleyway that was meant for me and the other Death Eaters, I sincerely wished I had a cigarette. But I couldn't even afford those, could I. All I could afford to do was kick around the trash that was littering the grimy floor. And even that I could only do quietly. It'd be my life if a guard came out here and caught me at it. Maybe they'd make me clean it all up for free, and then I truly would be starving.

I let out a shaky breath. I didn't do so well under pressure anymore. I wasn't as strong as I used to be. While there were a million benefits of being complacent, it really shakes your nerves to be the centre of attention again. I really cursed myself for saving Granger and asked myself again: Why would she approach me in front of all those people? Why would she single me out like that? Did she really not know or did she hate me _that _much?

I wouldn't blame her really. I just really wanted to know so I could rip it up into little pieces like her stupid little card and throw it all over my shoulder. Life was hard enough without someone like Granger keeping me up at night.

"Waiting for someone?" I heard behind me.

They'd snuck into the alleyway while I'd been preoccupied. There were four of them, big brawny specimens, and I wasn't sure I'd ever seen them before. The one that had spoken was wearing Auror training robes. The other three were just plain clothed. Maybe they'd been heading home when they'd caught Granger talking to me. Maybe they were just bored.

"No," I said, shaking my head, hoping my voice was even.

I didn't really feel all that even, but I wasn't that scared. It wasn't that odd that these four were here and that the one on my right was flexing his knuckles. It wasn't the _first _time something like this had happened. It probably wouldn't even be the last. The last time I'd had to spend two whole hungry weeks at home from three broken ribs because I couldn't afford a trip to St. Mungos just then. It had been painful. I had never missed having a fully functional wand than I had then.

I had the sense to protest when two of the goons held my arms back. I also had the sense not to scream too loud when the one that had spoken punched me in the gut, then pummeled me like I was a punching bag. It wouldn't do if they left me silenced in this alleyway. As much as I sympathized with Ex Death Eaters – they were my people now – you really didn't want an ex-con to find you. I didn't want to be robbed _and _beaten to death.

"Think you can just talk like that to a Hero and walk away, hm?" he spat in my face. Then he punched me in the jaw. I would be lying if I say I wasn't crying by that point, but believe me when I say I didn't sob. Not once. "Think you can just act like you own the place, you little prick?"

I couldn't tell you how long it lasted. I can say for sure that they all took turns until I vomited on one of them. It wasn't anything different than usual, really. They kicked me where it really hurt and spat on me. Then they left, figuring there wasn't too much more damage they could do. By that point, I really couldn't care because I really couldn't feel anything. It was all just numb.

So I rolled over, curled up, and went to sleep.

/

It wasn't easy getting up let alone getting home when I regained consciousness. For a second, I forgot who I was, where I was, and where I was supposed to be going. It was dark, I was bloody and aching and sore, and laying in the gutter of an abandoned alleyway. It didn't take me long to figure out what had happened. I hadn't gone back to work, so the Greengrasses probably thought I was dead or in jail. It wasn't that uncommon. Maybe they would have to fire me tomorrow for skipping work.

It was agony to move, but that was something that I had become accustomed to.

You know, it's really funny. I could tell you all about how I forced myself to get up, clinging to the dirty brick walls of the Ministry alleyway. I could tell you exactly how painful it was to walk all the way home. It wasn't like I had access to the floo network. I couldn't apparate. I didn't have money for a muggle cab. It was a really painful walk, yes, it really was. I could even tell you about how much I bled out until I was able to go home, sit in my pitiful little shower, and cry like a little baby.

But really, why would you care about something like that when even _I _don't care? I really didn't care, not when the sun rose up and I hadn't slept at all. Really, that night was nothing remarkable. In fact, I'd had a lot worse and a lot worse would happen in the future. It was all just routine and when you have a routine, you should submit to it. You never _deviate _because if you do, you'll end up like I did, right here, right in this bloody mess.

No, what _was _remarkable about that night was that I didn't regret a second of it. Sure, I'd gotten beaten to a bloody pulp and I'd had to set my own nose without any magic and only cheap firewhisky for painkillers, and I'd degraded myself to crying like I was that boy from sixth year told to kill the greatest wizard who ever lived. But I didn't regret any of that happening because I realized that something different had happened to me.

I hadn't been arrested. I had talked to a member of the famed golden trio and hadn't been hexed or cursed. I'd exited the Ministry. I'd woken up with my pay and identification papers still in my pocket.

And Granger had smiled at me.

She had _smiled _at _me. _

You get pissed on all the time if you're a Death Eater and you're poor. You're going to get harassed and thrown in the street, just because of who you are. And they're going to do whatever it is they can to ruin your life. But she didn't. She hadn't. It was stupid of me to engage the idea, but she had _smiled _at me. Maybe it was the firewhisky, but when I fell asleep at dawn, all I could think about was her. And her smile. And the fact that she still couldn't tame her bushy hair after all of these years.

I allowed myself to dream, which is the most dangerous thing a person in my position could ever do. You can never dream because then you'll have _hope. _And hope is the slowest poison of all. Because if you let it grow, eventually it will fester. And if it festers and spreads and _dies, _there is no god and no magic that can save you.

You see, that night while I was all bloodied and bruised, I let myself hope. And really, it's because of that stupid hope that I got into any of the mess in the first place. First, it was curiosity.

Then, even after those four stupid men tried to kick some sense into me, I allowed myself to fall for it. For Granger of all people. For the one person who I should never have set my eyes on. I began to hope Granger would smile at me again. It was stupidity. It was the worst possible thing that could ever happen.

But nevertheless, the seed had been planted. And it grew.

_Continuously. _

Really, I should've just quit while I was ahead.

**A/N: Of all the chapters I've written for this and of all my planning, I think this one was my favourite to write. I'm not too sure why. Please drop a line and let me know what you think! I'd really appreciate the feedback before I start writing the next chapter. **

**Until next week, here's another spoiler: **

"Malfoy," she gasped.

_Yes, Granger, _I wanted to say, _it is I. Voldemort. Risen from the dead! Fear me, you little chit! _Shake a fist at her for emphasis. Gods, what had come over me? But I didn't engage in such ridiculous behaviour, obviously. That would've been the dead of me, quite literally.


	5. What I Should've Done Was Nothing

**A/N: **This is actually a really short chapter. I'm not exactly sure why that is. Maybe because it's partially filler? But I really did need it to get things moving to the right direction. In any case, I hope you enjoy! I'm posting this a little earlier to make up for posting so late in the day these past two weeks.

Thank you as always for everyone who has been reading, but especially to you lovely reviewers who really motivate me to update every week. ENJOY!

**Disclaimer: **I only own the plot. Everything belongs to their appropriate owners.

**Rating: Rated T **

**CHAPTER FIVE: WHAT I SHOULD'VE DONE WAS NOTHING **

**JUNE 2001**

"What have they done to you?" she screeched.

I hadn't been facing her at the time, but I knew who it was. Her voice was unmistakable, really. Something akin to bells. Astoria Greengrass, my childhood crush. Not to say I didn't like her anymore, of course I did. Just not in that way, really. In another lifetime, I would've married the girl. But now, she – like everyone else –was above me. Not that she would ever acknowledge something like that. Not to herself and not to me, no matter how many times I told the girl to leave me alone.

When she came closer to me, conjuring up some ice to calm the swelling of my eye, I let her. It was probably stupid, but I was a weak person. I did tell you that about myself, didn't I? I'm a weak, weak person. I do things that aren't good for me, even when I know I shouldn't. People say it's natural to crave companionship once in a while, to want someone to take care of you when things aren't going so well. I say to all those people, shouldn't you be worrying about staying alive?

Actually, at that moment, I was more worried about her father catching me and firing me for being anywhere near his daughter. But then, it was only because of Astoria that her father had hired me in the first place. I knew her. I'm rather sure she had begged on my behalf. And for that, I was indebted to her. I'd probably be rotting in the streets or in Azkaban if it wasn't for her.

Maybe it was out of that gratitude that I let her hold the ice to my face, stroking my hair as if I were her lover. I wasn't, obviously, even though she wanted it to be true. Not that I would've minded if I were. I would've quite liked that, it would've been some kind of bliss. But girls like her had no business associating with boys like me – destitute, bruised, and poor.

But I let her touch me, anyway.

"Who did this to you?" she asked. She might've been crying. I didn't bother looking up.

"Don't know," I muttered. Did she really have to talk? "Never met them before."

"_Why_?" she demanded. "What happened? What did you do?"

Of course it was _what did you do_? Of course it was something _I _had to have done. In that second, I almost resented her. She didn't know what it was like to be on this side of the stick, either. She was still on top, of course, because her family were blood traitors. They'd left when they'd had the chance. Of course she didn't know what it was like to be picked on for no bloody reason, to be grabbed and hauled and beaten just because you'd looked at someone the wrong way. For me, it was all diffidence. She still had the security.

But I guess I had done something other than existing and breathing. I'd talked and looked at Granger. I'd probably caused her distress, if I remembered the look on her face. She had apologized for humiliating me, but probably only because she'd done it in public. Gods, was she socially awkward, or what? She had approached the Death Eater. She'd done it to herself. She'd done this to me.

"I spoke to Hermione Granger at the Ministry. After my Death Eater check in."

"You did _what?_" Astoria breathed, shocked. "Why on earth would you-"

So Astoria saw the incredulity of the situation too. I wasn't going crazy.

"I pulled her out of the way of a muggle truck in the street the day I was delivering packages. I don't even know what she was doing there, you know? In the street. She was just walking like the rest of us and I didn't even get to ask why…" I finally looked at Astoria and she was looking at me like I had some kind of death wish, talking nonsense as I was. "And she just approached me, I swear. I don't go _looking _for trouble. You know that. I didn't do any of it on purpose."

Astoria just nodded, stroking my hair back off my forehead. It was too intimate a gesture, but I didn't dare cringe. I didn't want to offend the one person who was sometimes on my side. Sometimes, when it was safe to be and when it suited her purposes, of course. But I wasn't one to complain. Not anymore. These weren't the times to look free friendship in the mouth and punch it out. I couldn't afford to be picky anymore.

"So she had you beaten?" she asked, appalled. The thought horrified her. "Right there in the Ministry?"

"Course not," I admonished. Who would ever think something like that of sweet, innocent _Granger? _She'd never do anything like that, not even to her enemies. "Some trainee Auror and his pals caught me as I was leaving the Ministry."

Astoria just nodded and resumed mothering me, like that was her job, as if any of the things that we were doing were natural. And of course I let her. I _allowed _her to, pretending like I had a choice. If she wanted, she could've done anything to me and I wouldn't have ever said no. What choice did I really have, if we were honestly considering it? She was just a lesser Granger, someone I had to obey because if I didn't, things just wouldn't end well for me.

Somewhere in my pain addled mind, I almost wished she _was _Granger. But only so I could ask her what she was doing in the street. Nothing more, obviously. Anything beyond that would be absolutely ludicrous.

Wouldn't it?

/

My bruises were purpling when she had appeared in the office, as if she had every right to be there and I didn't. I had been sorting through a pile of heavy boxes, organizing old periodicals that had managed to go haywire in the last office move. The Greengrasses were currently running the Daily Prophet, amongst other things. I suppose the Ministry felt like they could keep an easy eye over them this way. Being their personal errand boy, it fell to me to deal with these annoying inconveniences.

Who really needed hundred year old newspapers organized, anyway?

She didn't even notice me, which was not unusual in the least. I was a shadow, why would someone as prestigious as her notice the likes of me? It wasn't out of the ordinary for important people to walk around and over me, going about their oh so necessary business as if I wasn't even there, regardless of the fact that I had once ruled over their insignificant lives. Now I was the one with the insignificant life, quite literally. I knew this as I was sitting down on my knees and organizing unused papers in dusty boxes that no one would ever need or care about.

Nevertheless, when she didn't notice me, I was both relieved and mildly annoyed. Relieved because, well, hadn't she honestly done enough already? And annoyed because, seriously? She _had _done more than enough already and that was frustrating. The least she could do was _not _remind me of how pathetically insignificant I had become.

But honestly, I really shouldn't have cared. If I knew what was good for me – and I did – I honestly shouldn't have cared.

She asked the snooty receptionist (who made it a point to look down at me through her idiotic glasses as I came in to work every morning) to fetch her Mr. Greengrass. Of course a person like Granger would be polite to a fault while causing misery in my life. And of course the bint that worked in the front would fawn all over her, unbeknownst to Granger. The silly little girl ran in search of my employer.

It was only then that she was looking around, that infuriating smile on her face like nothing could possibly wrong in the world – and what could be wrong in _her _world anyway, except for me? I turned my face away, hoping she wouldn't notice me, which really was a farfetched hope at that point. Later she would tell me that I had intrigued her. I would tell her that she had made me feel more bitter about myself at that point than any Ministry official had in the past three years.

And that was seriously saying something.

I could almost feel her eyes land on the back of my neck. It wasn't the first time I cursed the trademark Malfoy platinum hair. It also wasn't the first time I considered dying it jet black like Potter's. I doubt, though, that it would help much. People could tell what class you were just by the stoup of your shoulders and that alone could make them cross the street away from your sorry self. So I knew she would spot me, immediately, dejectedly slouched on the floor as I was. Though I didn't know just at that moment that it would change everything.

"Draco?" she called over. Damn her curiosity. I pretended like I hadn't heard her like any self respecting person would. "Malfoy?"

It was almost panic inducing, being addressed by Granger. Maybe I really ought to have said hello and have it done with, but I didn't get to make any choices. She made them for me, like everyone else did these days. She began to walk towards me, the little clicking of her clean shoes coming right towards me. Why was I so damn curious about why she was bothering with me at all? I should've been cursing her in my head. I shouldn't have been feeling anything at all, even if it was only innocent curiosity.

"Malfoy," she gasped.

_Yes, Granger, _I wanted to say, _it is I. Voldemort. Risen from the dead! Fear me, you little chit! _Shake a fist at her for emphasis. Gods, what had come over me?

But I didn't engage in such ridiculous behavior, obviously. That would've been the death of me, quite literally. Instead, I just nodded at her as if I had just noticed her standing there just then, and then gone back to my work like a normal human being. What I should've done was nothing. What _she _should've done was to walk away just then, like a normal person would've. But, being the nosy, weird, and determined to ruin my life as she was, she continued to stand there, invading my space.

"What happened to you?" she demanded, as if she had a right to demand anything from me. "What happened to your _face?" _

She moved even closer.

"I see you still haven't learned any manners. Don't you know it's _rude _to stare?"

It was out of my mouth before I could even register it, she had that kind of effect on people. Really, I'd spent the last couple of years in absolute servitude. Those kinds of thoughts were absolutely foreign to me. I had been _molded _after all! And all it had taken to snap me back to my miserable self were a few encounters with this annoying girl. I should've seen the signs. I should've run away as soon as I could. I shouldn't have done anything at all.

She didn't look like she was going to punch me in the face for saying something so rude, though. In fact, she seemed like she _expected _something like that from me – being rude. I looked around and it seemed like no one else had heard the exchange, so perhaps I was safe. Perhaps I _wouldn't _be dragged out of the street and lose what little I had managed to gather as mine for insulting someone as high standing as Granger.

"Is Greengrass doing this to you, Malfoy?" she asked suspiciously, as if it really mattered either way. "Because if he is, that's completely wrong! Let alone _illegal!" _

I snorted and turned my back on her, returning to sorting through the piles of dusty boxes. That was really rich, coming from Granger. Illegal, my arse. As if anyone cared what happened to Death Eater scum like me. Really, stuff like this was so common, so every day, so _normal, _that people didn't even really blink an eye when it happened. Rights and privileges were reserved for witches and wizards that didn't associate with nose-less freaks.

But I highly doubted Granger had gotten the memo. Nevertheless, I wasn't going to be her house elf if it was the last thing I did. I had that much pride left in me, I realized. She couldn't take that away from me. I would never accept her pity.

Just then, Greengrass appeared, panting as if he had just run all the way there. "Ms. Granger!"

"Greengrass," she responded coolly. "You and I must have a word."

Greengrass paled and he had good reason to be afraid. If Granger spoke to _anyone _with less than a bright smile, it was usually a cause for worry. As they exited the room, I could've sworn that she gave me a worried glance.

Surely her coldness had nothing to do with me?

/

"Malfoy, get in here!"

It was late. Really late. Almost midnight, in fact, but I was used to working these kinds of hours. You never knew when you would need an errand boy, after all. So, I came before eight in the morning and left any time he chose to go home. Sometimes, we didn't go home at all.

It pissed me off that I knew Granger had left his office exactly three and a half hours ago. I shouldn't have been paying attention to things like that, let alone have been aware of the way her eyes had passed over me. I could literally _feel _the pity in her eyes. I couldn't fathom what for though – was it because of the inconsequential bruises on my face or what I had become in general? Both were equally pathetic.

Pathetic and unnoticeable. That was why I hadn't thought that Mr. Greengrass would want anything but to have me run some errand or another, something that just _couldn't _wait until the morning. What else could he want? Nothing to do with me in particular, obviously.

I was wrong, like usual.

"Come in and sit down, Malfoy," he said without looking up at me. He was as resigned as I was surprised. When I didn't immediately, he made an impatient, irritated noise in the back of his throat and beckoned me forward. "Go on, Malfoy. Sit down, then."

He didn't leave any room for argument and I complied immediately. Obeying had become second nature, there was nothing else to it. Apprehension grew within me as he just sat there, staring at me as if I were too much trouble to trifle with. I could see the pity there, too. There was always an inkling of involuntary pity whenever he happened to stare at me – which was, thankfully, rare. In another life, Mr. Greengrass would've thrown himself at my father's feet in order to create a match between myself and one of his daughters. Now, I was nothing and he felt sort of bad about that.

But not _too _bad. After all, he could be where I was, and no one in their right minds would want that.

"Hermione Granger was in here earlier accusing me of abusing my own workers," he said to me very seriously.

I paused for a second, processing the words that had been directed at me. I had to repeat them slowly in my own head to make sense of them. When I did, I burst out laughing. The image was just too much to compute. Mr. Greengrass – old, portly, kindly Mr. Greengrass – being accused of roughing me up by _Granger_ of all people. It was the most hilarious thing I'd heard in years. The man could barely lift a box, how on earth was he supposed to muck up my face?

But Greengrass wasn't laughing and I immediately composed myself in fear of offending him. "I'm sorry, sir. That's… ludicrous."

"Ludicrous! She stood before me and…" He shook his head and then rubbed his hands all over his tired, old face. "We can't afford those kinds of allegations, Draco."

It had been a long while since he'd addressed me by my first name. It reminded me eerily of my childhood, when this very man had catered to my father's every whim. Usually it was either Malfoy or boy or even _you there! _Never Draco. No one but Granger and Astoria had called me that in so long. It almost hurt my ears. I imagined them bleeding from the abuse.

"Yes, sir," I forced myself to say to him. I had to force myself to put on the most solemn voice I possessed, which wasn't too hard.

"We've worked so hard to get here, you understand? I won't have you destroying this family, Malfoy. Not after all this…" He trailed off, looking at me with blank eyes. They were the dullest eyes I'd ever seen, withered away by years of servitude and fear. I wondered if that's what my eyes looked like – blank. "If you get into another infraction with the Ministry, with _anyone,_ I'm going to have to be forced to remove you from under my employment."

"Yes, sir." To my credit, all I did was nod. I didn't gasp. I held it all in. "I understand."

Goddamn Granger. She was always ruining good things for people. I pushed to feel an undercurrent of loathing next to my fear. Who did she think she was, coming in here and running her stupid pretty mouth like that? Her idiotic conception of justice was going to have me starving on the streets. Her ignorant morality was going to get me killed. I had to hate her for it. I had to physically force myself to hate her for it, fill my belly with the disgust that I knew should've been there. Or even better, what I should have felt was nothing.

But I _did _feel something ridiculous then, and it wasn't apathy or hatred like it should've been. Rather, I was filled with a weird kind of marvel at her stupid actions. Sure, it was probably going to cost me dearly, but I couldn't help but appreciate the courage it must take for someone to stand up for someone else for no reason other than they just could.

I wanted to taste that kind of freedom. I wanted to taste that courage, too, let it brew in my veins. I could feel these notions changing me from the inside out and I knew that it was a really bad idea, even as it was happening, even as I was transforming because of Hermione Granger of all people.

I wanted the freedom to act like her. What I should have wanted was nothing at all.

Greengrass must have noticed this transformation, for he scrutinized me closely. In the end, he didn't fire me right then. Maybe it would be a little too hard for him to find another errand boy that he could trust under such short notice. After all, Greengrass knew I wasn't going to murder him when we worked alone these late hours. He knew I wouldn't kidnap, murder, and rape his daughters. He knew I wasn't a thief. I could see him calculating the trouble I was worth right then.

I must've won for he reached under his desk and gave me a bag that was filled with bread and cheese. And then he tossed a sickle at me.

"Make us both a sandwich then get yourself home, boy," he said gruffly, as if annoyed I hadn't already done so. "Make sure you _shower._"

I couldn't help the grin that spread over my face as I left his office.

**A/N: Please take the time to review and let me know what you thought! I'd really appreciate the feedback. **

**Until next week, here's something to tide you over: **

"Theo?" I whispered, a strange feeling twisting my gut. "Is that really you?"

Theodore Nott managed to spit up some blood, giving me an unnervingly lucid stare. "Came back for me. Didn't expect that from you, Malfoy."


	6. Introducing, Theodore Nott

**A/N: **Hello lovely people! I shan't lie to you all – this chapter almost didn't get done. I've just been very very busy with life and all that. I've also had some family come in from out of town and have been busy entertaining them. As a result, even though this chapter isn't _short, _it's definitely not covering all of the plot points that I had in mind.

Thank you as always to the lovely people who reviewed and to everyone who is reading.

**Rating: **Rated T for violence.

**CHAPTER SIX: INTRODUCING, THEODORE NOTT**

It was a Sunday, one of those rare Sundays that Mr. Greengrass took a half day off. I rarely have days off, you see. Living as a Death Eater was always a full time job, even when the big old snake was around. So that half day was a big deal for me. It was summer time, it was sunny, and I had a couple of hours all to myself if I so chose. It was a gift and it almost made me smile to myself.

Well, if I'm being completely honest, I left the Daily Prophet offices with a little bit of trepidation. I was still a bit put off with Granger's involvement in my life – for all I knew she was just lurking around the corners, just waiting for me to put my guard down before she came bouncing in and ruining everything for me. Of course she'd show up on my one good day off. I hadn't seen a day off in at least a full year now.

But it was ridiculous. I was unimportant and Granger probably had better things to do. What I was more concerned about was being accosted in the streets again. I couldn't afford it – I didn't have the money to go to St. Mungos – and neither could Mr. Greengrass. He'd made it clear that he would fire me and that was something I really didn't want to risk.

Where would I go without that useless dead end job? Probably to Azkaban.

As it was, I didn't see Granger at all that day, not that I didn't keep a sharp eye out for her. It even makes me ashamed to say that I thought about her constantly. How could I not, though? It's not like there was anything else in my life going for me. She was new and she was fresh. It was hard to focus on anything _besides _the enigma that was Granger.

I thought about what she could be doing on a Sunday. She probably had the day off too. But of course, she probably had many days off. She could do whatever she wanted with her life – unlike myself – and be happy. Again, unlike myself. Oddly, that didn't even make me bitter. It just made me curious. What would she do in her spare time? Try to befriend other Death Eaters, or was that spot just reserved for me? Was she sound asleep in her little Gryffindor bed, or was she out walking on the streets with us underserving folk?

And why on _earth _did she insist on walking on the street where any manner of thing could happen to her?

Like getting crushed by a muggle truck.

Whatever the case was with Granger, l wasn't going to think about it... The day was too bright, too free, and too open for me to be so caught up in things that obviously did not concern me. Rather than dwelling, I just wanted to be for once. I didn't think of why this was the case, why l had this urge to be in the open. I couldn't. It didn't matter anyway, that usually on my rare days off I would always catch up on my sleep. I didn't even dare to tell my pesky subconscious that Granger was the reason for my need for change, even on this inconsequential level. I knew it. My subconscious knew it. Everyone had to have known it.

The sunlight was a balm to my soul, honestly. It was like I'd been asleep all of these horrible years, never brave enough to look up and really question anything around me – not the brutality, nor the injustice, but especially not the way my life was flashing by me without my consent. I couldn't change the world, and I wasn't even about to try to do something as stupid as that, but what I could do was stay awake and remember to breathe. I could remember to be refreshing and different and always remember to keep things changing.

It was odd to me that this was all because of _her. _

It was almost ironic really. I'd spent half my life trying to make her and her kind miserable. Like absolutely miserable to the point where I'd participated in a movement to kill the lot of them off. And now, now when I was miserable and insignificant, it was her, the very one I'd wanted to stomp out under my shoe for just _existing _as a child, here she was changing my life around. I was supposed to hate her, not that I was capable of that kind of emotion anymore, and the woman wasn't even aware of the integral role she had in my life.

I mean, she was barely aware of me. She just _was _who she was, and there was nothing more to it or her kindness. It made me feel like maybe I deserved it. All of it. Not that I could very well go around saying things like that. Something like that could start a riot in a climate like the one I lived in.

I don't know how long I walked for. It must have been forever because my cheeks had become flushed, my skin a horrible shade of red if I was going to be brutally honest. I'd always been unattractively pale. But these things didn't concern me. Nothing concerned me today, on this glorious day off in the sun. I let my mind wander to unnecessary dangerous things and let my feet take me wherever they would. It was probably stupidly dangerous to wander. It was also probably incredibly negligent of me to waste my energy like that when I should've been resting. But I was reckless. I wanted change. I wanted something different to pass the time.

And why not? Why the hell not?

With that attitude, I ended up at Diagon Alley. Not the main street, mind you. The grand shops were well beyond the likes of little old me. Yeah, I used to prance up and down the place as if I'd owned it – and let's be honest, I _had _owned it– but now, I didn't even have the status to use the front doors. Then again, that day I was more than positive. I was just happy that there were some shops that would take us, shops that probably couldn't do without the money. It was at the very least one step up from Knockturn Alley.

With my Ministry approved pay stub, I'd decided to get my shopping done, there wasn't much else for it. It's not like I could've done much else with my day besides go home and sleep. And I had too much energy, too much stubborn _hope _to do that. But a person like me, well, I had eyes on me all the time, every second of the day. I couldn't exactly go about entertaining myself in any which way possible. No Quidditch, no Flourish and Bolts, not much of anything, really. I think I was also banned from the various pet shops along Diagon Alley, but I couldn't be sure since I hadn't visited one in years. I had enough trouble feeding myself let alone another animal.

But somehow, this was enough for me. The sun was, after all, shining. I was still breathing. The world was still spinning on, and until it gave me indication that it intended to destroy itself, I was just going to go on pretending like everything was normal. As if this was the way things always were. I'd been beaten down to the point where this wasn't even hard. I barely blinked an eye. When I reached the shadier part of Diagon Alley meant for Death Eaters like myself, I even had a small smile on my face.

Does that seem twisted to you?

It wasn't meant to be, though, any of it. I didn't know it at the time, but that moment was probably when all of the crap in my life _really _began.

The generally quiet part of the street was startled when a wisp of a man was thrown out of a shop with a crash. There was a scuffle where a portly man – presumably the shop keeper – came out and began beating down on the emaciated boy, yelling all kind of obscenities. I don't know what came over me. This kind of injustice was entirely normal. In fact, I had been on the receiving end of it too many times to count in these past years. But that day, that stupid hopeful day, I just couldn't bear to see it. Not to myself and not to anyone else. So, instead of not caring about the fate of the Death Eater like a good citizen, I walked over to the spectacle, attempting to make the giant man stop his abuse.

"Please, sir," I pleaded, very much used to belittling myself by this point. "What seems to be the problem?"

The politeness always threw them. I don't know why. Maybe they thought the lot of us were barbarians, us former Death Eaters. Maybe they thought we couldn't be reasoned with. But I had learned that if I pretended that I was subservient, I could maybe get the unsuspecting ones to consider leaving me alone. Course, this was the first time in years I'd intervened for someone else. It was the most unselfish thing I'd done in my life.

"This scoundrel has been stealing from me!" the man seethed, aiming a kick at the boy's ribs. "I ought to call the Ministry on you, you filthy rat! You _Death Eater!" _

At those words, no one dared approach the situation. I would've left, honestly, but I'd already involved myself and it was too late. If the Ministry was indeed going to be involved, I was going to be locked up before the day was done. The sparse crowd of shoppers had dispersed, leaving me and the wheezing boy to deal with the angry shopkeeper.

"There's no need for that, sir…" I tried to plead, trying to get the man to look at me instead of the bag of bones that was clearly aggravating him. I almost cringed at the sight. "Uh… My friend here, he was just waiting for me. I'm sure that this is just a… a misunderstanding."

The shopkeeper's eyes bugged out, looking at me as if I were a traitor to the realm as well. "You know this scumbag, boy?"

I began to tremble under the wrath of the shopkeeper, who looked like he was about to march inside and floo the Auror department himself. I couldn't have that. I wasn't going to go to prison for anyone or anything. Before he could take any sort of drastic action, I dug my beloved pay stub out of my pocket, shoving the slip into the man's unsuspecting hand. Of course, that surprised him even more. He had, after all, thought we were dishonest bastards not even worth the dirt underneath his shoes. _Obviously _we were just thieves to him, attempting to scam him out of an honest living. Of course we knew nothing of what such an endeavour would entail.

"You see, I had just forgotten my earnings at home and… and my friend here," I said, cringing, not daring to glance down at the prone figure somewhere near my feet, "must have begun gathering our supplies without me."

The man stared at me as if evaluating my story until finally he nodded. I couldn't believe my luck, shaking from the unnerving experience, the close escape from something that was probably worse than death. He was still glaring at me, as if it was my fault I'd caused him all of this trouble and that he ought to get rid of me just for being a nuisance. But that was okay. Most people looked at me that way from day to day, anyway. I was just grateful that I wasn't horrifically disfigured at this point.

Stupid me and stupid need to interfere. This could also be blamed on Granger and her stupid influence. But why the hell was I still thinking about Granger at a serious time like this?

"But that one stays outside!" the angry shopkeeper growled in annoyance.

"Yes sir," I agreed easily.

I didn't even dare look back to see if the person I'd risked my freedom for was even alive, laying prone in the dirt. I was more than ready to just leave him there if need be, if I was going to be honest. I hadn't lied about being selfish earlier. But apparently this selfish tendency seemed to appease the shopkeeper, who just nodded at me. I'd passed his inspection, though this did not mean that he would extend any kind of kindness towards me. They never did.

It was just pure coincidence that the shop happened to be a bakery. Or, thinking back, maybe it wasn't that much of a coincidence. The boy/man/person had looked weak and hungry. Maybe that was the reason to choose this particular shop, even if stealing as a former Death Eater was the stupidest thing someone could do. But at least I wouldn't have to hand over my monthly earnings for something stupid. Like cat food.

If I'd have had to live on cat food for a month, I'd have gone and murdered the man myself.

In the end, my meagre earnings only earned me two loaves of bread, some slightly wilted vegetables, and a dozen cans of soup. But that was alright. I even had three galleons and a sickle to add to my savings, which was really just a sock that I kept under my pillow. The shopkeeper was even nice enough to package my things in a bag instead of throwing my purchases in the street. _That _was also a common occurrence, especially if us convicts had irritated them.

When I left to collect my supposed friend – more like unwitting _burden _– under the watchful eye of the shopkeeper, I nearly dropped my groceries into the dirt myself.

"Theo?" I whispered, a strange feeling twisting in my gut. "Is that really you?"

Theodore Nott managed to spit up some blood, giving me an unnervingly lucid stare. "Came back for me. Didn't expect that from you, Malfoy."

I was in some sort of shock, seeing what had become of my old friend. Well, we'd never been close, but we'd shared a dormitory and classes for seven years and had had Death Eater fathers. Hooking his arm around my shoulders, I hauled his unresisting body up off the ground. I didn't dare let go of him, for once he was on his feet he swayed dangerously. And maybe I thought he might disappear on me. I hadn't seen Nott since the end of the war, you see. It was some kind of twisted coincidence finding him here and at my mercy.

There wasn't much else to it. I couldn't just leave him there. The scene that had been made had given us undue attention, and if I'd let him on his own I had no doubt that he'd be dead by the end of the day. Or worse. There was always worse where people like us were concerned. I didn't have another choice. I took him back to my dingy flat and he came along, probably realizing that resisting was futile. Besides, it didn't look like there was anywhere else he had to go.

Once he was safely seated in my bed, I offered him the remnants of my cheap whisky. Looking at him and observing the way he'd hobbled, he was injured. And I'd have to do something about it. Clearly I was the only thing between him and death. Or between him and sleeping on the streets, which, let's face it, is pretty much the same thing.

There wasn't much I could do in the end. The whisky probably numbed the pain, but I couldn't heal him much at all. The limitations the Ministry had placed on my wand were too great. And even then, I didn't know enough healing magic to help him. He had four broken ribs, a broken nose (which I set as best as I could), at least six broken fingers (which I'd done a pretty poor job setting), a cracked knee, and probably some internal bleeding. I couldn't be sure about that.

But the worst of it was the hunger. I could see all of his bones. I'd thought _I _had had it bad, but clearly Nott hadn't eaten a decent meal in months. It was no wonder he'd risked Azkaban for a bite of food. Frankly, I just didn't know how he'd made it so far. Looking at him raised emotions in me I didn't know I had. I was so pitiful I nearly offered him all of my monthly rations.

He must've known that it was all I had, because he only took a meagre amount. To this day, looking at his starved face, I didn't know how he managed to restrain himself.

"Why are you doing this, Malfoy?" he asked me after he'd eaten his small portion.

"Giving you food?" I asked, glaring at his weakened body pointedly. "I don't want you stabbing me in my sleep for my bread, is all."

But my sarcasm didn't do anything for him. In fact, he didn't even seem fazed.

"Why did you stop that bastard from killing me?" he pushed on.

"Would you prefer I hadn't?" I asked, raising my brow.

He shrugged. And that was how I knew Nott had given up all hope in this world. He hadn't gone into that shop to steal because he couldn't control his hunger. He'd done it so the shopkeeper would beat him to death. And if I hadn't intervened, that would've been a real possibility. I saw that now. Even with my meagre help, it was still a possibility.

For the first time since my sentence had been given to me by the Wizengamot, I felt raging anger course through my veins. It was odd because it wasn't even anger for myself or my own condition. Looking at Nott's dead eyes did something to me. I wanted to tell him, no, that this wasn't bloody acceptable and that I wasn't going to let him clock out like this because goddamnit we are _Slytherins. _

But then I remembered that Slytherins are all cowards and, well, I was one of them, wasn't I? That quieted the rage very easily. But it wasn't enough. None of it would ever be enough now. That morning, I'd been filled with hope for change, hope because I'd seen something in Hermione Granger. And now, life was giving me an answer in the form of a half-starved Theodore Nott. It was telling me to give up like he had.

But every time I looked into Nott's dull eyes, I saw Granger's warm ones, all curious about why I'd torn up her goddamn stupid card. How I could reject her help, _her _help, the golden girl of all the magical world. For some reason, I just couldn't accept it. Any of it.

"I'm going to help you, Nott," I said to him with conviction I didn't know I had. "Things aren't going to get better, but you and I are going to make it as best as we can."

He looked at me like I was crazy, like I'd lost my bloody mind for saying something so hopeful. And maybe I was. Maybe Granger's odd actions had messed with my brain _that _much. I just couldn't believe there wasn't enough room in the world for Nott and myself. Especially when people like Granger could stoop so low as to walk in the street among us. Surely, if that could happen, _anything _could happen. Anything at all.

I ended up sleeping next to Nott that night, though I don't think he minded my uncomfortable mattress. I'm rather sure he'd been sleeping on the floor the past few years of his life. I would've slept on the floor to give the guy more space and comfort or what not, but I'm rather sure my flat was infested with termites and I only owned three pairs of undamaged clothes that I couldn't afford to ruin by sleeping on the floor.

"You had better not try groping me in my sleep," I warned him as sternly as I could. "Or I'll hex you right back to where I found you."

He rolled his eyes in disgust, sarcasm rolling of his tongue, "I'll try my best, Malfoy."

I couldn't help but smile to the ceiling. How could I not? It had sounded so much like the Theodore Nott that had roamed the halls of Hogwarts of old.

/

That week and the week after, I got what I had been hoping for, though perhaps in a roundabout way. Nott stayed in my apartment with me and it _was _a change. Not exactly the change that I had asked for, yes, but change nonetheless. I shan't lie. At first it was really awkward and what not. I hadn't spoken amicably with anyone for prolonged periods of time since the end of the war. And now here I was, eating, talking, and sleeping next to this man that I'd known for nearly all my life, spending every spare second I had with him.

He was still gravely injured, of course, and there was nothing I could do about that except spend all of my measly savings to buy him another bottle of cheap firewhisky to numb the pain. I knew he appreciated it by the look on his face and the way he tried to ration it, telling me he was going to save me half the bottle if it was the last thing he did.

I'd never seen anyone have so much fortitude. It was nearly sickening to watch.

I still don't know why I cared so much. He was just some guy that I'd known, you know? I didn't have any obligation to protect him, help him, try and heal him. But hell, those entire two weeks I spent trying to figure out how to heal him and look for job prospects for the bloke. I told him it was only because I didn't want to continue sharing my bed and limited rations of food with him (not that he ate much of anything, which only served to piss me off. How was he going to get better if he refused to eat?) But the both of us knew better.

Fortune smiled upon him in the end in the most unexpected of ways. Though you probably can _guess _what happened. I probably don't even need to tell you. Everything is obvious with hindsight, even though I couldn't see or understand it back then.

That's right. Granger came to the rescue like she always does. With everything and everyone she gave a damn for.

It was rather random and happened on an innocuous Thursday. I still remember the day because it was just so _random_. I still can't wrap my mind around the little things like that. Anyway, I'd walked to work as per usual, thinking about Nott's predicament (_our _predicament) and what on earth I'd do about it. I had been just about to enter the buildings of the Daily Prophet when she'd called out to me. I'd been so absorbed with my thoughts that I hadn't even seen her standing there off to the side of the entrance.

"Hello Malfoy," she said rather timidly, as if she was afraid to startle me or something of the sort.

"Hello…"

"How are you doing?" she asked pleasantly enough.

I'm not proud to admit that I just stood there, staring at her like an open mouthed idiot. But you have to understand the absurdity of the situation. I'd tormented the girl for what, six years or something? I'd participated in a war that had tried to kill off her and all her kind. And then just last week she'd gone and almost gotten me fired. So you see, I just didn't understand how she could stand there, look at me with that bloody amazing forgiving smile on her face and talk to me like we were actually acquainted.

She seemed to understand that though, for she quickly shook her head. "Yes, well, I'm sure you're very busy…"

"I'm fine, thank you," I said, my manners kicking in finally. It had been years since I'd needed them, but they were still there. I just hadn't ever thought I'd need them to interact with the greatest mudblood of them all. "How are you, then, Granger?"

She seemed relieved that I'd even asked.

"I'm great, thanks," she said with that smile again. It was a very suspicious smile, especially since it was directed at me. "I'm actually here to see you. That is… I have a job for you."

That definitely threw me. "A job?"

"Yeah! I mean, yes…a job, that is, I mean, if you're interested. I know Greengrass isn't paying you that much and the Ministry, that is…" she stumbled, flustered, and flushing to the roots of her hair. Something deep inside of me told me I ought to smirk at her and ridicule her for standing there like she was, but my years of post-war subservience stopped me. "I'm going to Bulgaria for Ministry business and I would like you to be part of the group that accompanies me."

For the longest time I didn't say anything and we just stood there in awkward silence. If I had been consumed with curiosity before, I hadn't known the true meaning of the word. She had me floored. First with the street walking and then the conversation at the Ministry and now _this? _She wanted me to work for her? As if I hadn't suffered enough indignity all these years, now she wanted me to be her errand boy? But she probably didn't see it that way. She probably thought she was doing me a bloody favour since I was so weak and poor and down trodden in life.

"Why?" I finally asked her.

She seemed startled that I had even bothered to consider her. Maybe she thought I'd just turn my back and walk away (like I should have) but I couldn't. I had to know. I had to just consider her so I could sleep at night. The mystery was just killing me.

"Well, you saved my life, Malfoy," she said with a shrug, as if it was obvious. "And, like I said, Mr. Greengrass isn't paying you all that much and I'm going to Bulgaria for the Pureblood Solution conferences. So having you there would actually be beneficial and what not…"

She continued to prattle on and list every single reason under the moon, but I didn't understand any of it. Pureblood Solution conference? I had no idea what she was talking about at the time. All I had heard was _saved my life _and _would be beneficial to have you. _This, at least, would work in my favour. I didn't know what possessed me, but I rudely cut her off.

"Say if I come with you," I asked her slowly, testing my luck. After all, propositioning someone like her could easily land me in Azkaban before I could even say the words I'm sorry. "What's in it for me?"

"I'm willing to triple your salary and offer you benefits that I know Greengrass isn't," she said as if it were something she had considered thoroughly before approaching him.

She looked like she was going to go on a rant about Mr. Greengrass's employment policies but I had different ideas.

"I'll agree to your terms, provided you do something for me first," I said with more confidence than I'd felt in years.

"And what's that?" she asked with a raised brow. Just curiosity, not an ounce of hatred or suspicion on her face. That's what sealed the deal for me. It was the start of the best and worst time of my life.

"Come with me," I said.

**A/N: So, what did you think? I'd really appreciate the feedback before I continue writing! **

**Here is a preview for the next chapter: **

"So be it!" I mimicked hotly. "What did you want me to do, hm? Let you bloody die on my bed? What would you mother say, you ungrateful prick!"

"My mother's _dead,_" he seethed. "And you're worse than dead come tomorrow. Who knows what she's going to make you do?"

"It's Granger," I reminded him. "She's… not like the others."

**To my anonymous reviewer with no name: **While I can't comment specifically on Hermione's marital status or her life after Draco, I can assure you that this won't be one of those "annoying"/disappointing stories where her life just stagnates. Thank you for reviewing!


	7. Departure

**A/N: **I'm posting this chapter early for all the lovely reviews you guys posted. It made writing this chapter a million times quicker for some reason! So, my greatest thanks. My week has been difficult beyond this. Real life has a way of sucking the energy right out of you and I'm experiencing this drain as I prepare to post this chapter up. At least this routine and speaking with you guys is one happiness that I can always count on.

And on we go.

**Rating: **Rated T for mature themes.

**CHAPTER SEVEN: DEPARTURE**

"Oh my god!" Granger exclaimed.

I honestly didn't blame her for being horrified and disgusted as she obviously was. Just being in my dingy little flat in the dingy part of town that I could afford to live in was probably mentally disturbing enough. The state of Nott on my extremely tiny little cot, all bruised and battered with only my threadbare blanket wrapped around him… well, it's safe to say I was sufficiently mortified at having Granger there. But there was nothing I could do, really. It just had to be done.

"Yeah, I apologize for the location," I said, hoping to gloss over that sore, embarrassing topic. "I just couldn't risk moving him, you see. Not quite sure about the extent of the damage and…"

But Granger didn't really seem to hear me, her gaze concentrating solely on Nott with an intensity I hadn't seen in years. It made me slightly envious of the man, though he was out of it. All he'd had to eat in a the past week was soup, bread, and alcohol, so I couldn't really blame him. I suppose I should've been happy that Granger barely noticed my poverty. That was at least a bright side to all of this indignity. I could only imagine her taking back her offer to work with her after she saw the state I lived in. It was pathetic and entirely too vain, especially since my so-called friend was dying right before the both of us.

She was performing what looked like diagnostic spells, not that I would know anything about that. I hadn't learned much healing magic, hadn't ever felt the need to. My mother had always been a sufficient healer when I'd lived at the Manor under the Dark Lord's rule. Granger, on the other hand, probably had needed every spell she could get her hands on.

The thought of that made me cringe, though she didn't notice, so that was entirely alright.

"What _happened _to him?" she asked me randomly in between what I assumed was fixing Nott's extremely damaged rib cage.

"Uh…" I hadn't expected her to speak to me, so I was naturally startled. I even had to clear my throat. "Well, when I found him, he was being beaten by a shopkeeper, you know… down by the end of Diagon Alley? Course, can't tell you if it was the start of it or not. Nott's got a bit of a death wish."

"I'm right here, you sorry prick," Nott growled, grimacing in pain. He had finally woken up, opening an eye to glare at me. When he caught sight of Granger, leaning over him, brandishing her wand in complex movements, he jerked back, screeching like a girl. "What the hell? What are _you _doing here? Malfoy, what the hell is wrong with you? Why would you bring her here?"

"Hey, don't talk like that in front of a lady," I said. Nott stared at me like I had lost my mind and brought him to hell in the process. Granger looked at me oddly too, as if I were a curious case she just couldn't figure out. I couldn't bear it so of course I ignored her. "Well, what was I supposed to do? I couldn't just let you die here in my bed. I can't afford a funeral right now, you ungrateful bastard."

Nott just rolled his eyes at me, gesturing for Granger to proceed. And she did, biting back a smile rather unsuccessfully. I don't know what she found amusing since it was supposed to be a rather grave situation, but the sight of her amused face made me want to laugh out loud like nothing else.

It's odd now. The rest of that day is a blur. Granger managed to fix Nott up to the best of her abilities – which were incredibly better than my sorry attempts – and had even gone and purchased a cherished bottle of skelegrow for him. Nott and I couldn't get over that little act of charity, but it got even worse. She went with me to the Daily Prophet offices so that Greengrass could officially relieve me of my duties. When I had least been expecting it, she put in Nott's name to take up my just vacated spot. Of course, Greengrass couldn't refuse Granger, so Nott had a job just like that.

All my problems solved, just like that.

As I lay next to Nott that night, not being able to sleep, we both couldn't understand how we had gotten so indebted to Granger in the matter of a few hours. Nott owed her a life debt. I owed her everything I possessed, even my labour. She had all but waved away our thanks and just smiled, giving me an advance on my paycheque, telling me to buy warmer clothes for Bulgaria.

"You're playing with fire, mate," Nott had said right on the brink of sleep. "You shouldn't have gone to her."

I nudged him lightly. He knew the story. I had only told him about _five _times. He knew I hadn't gone to Granger. She'd obviously come to me. As if I'd go actively looking for a death sentence like that. But what could I do? She was a flame and I was a moth. I hadn't been able to say no.

"If I hadn't, you'd have probably been dead in another week," I reminded him.

"So be it," Nott growled. I cringed. "It would've been better than this. She practically owns you, Malfoy. I don't care about me, I can handle it. But now you're her personal lap dog, don't you see? You threw away what little freedom you had!"

"So be it!" I mimicked hotly. "What did you want me to do, hm? Let you bloody die on my bed? What would you mother say, you ungrateful prick!"

"My mother's _dead,_" he seethed. "And you're worse than dead come tomorrow. Who knows what she's going to make you do?"

"It's Granger," I reminded him. "She's… not like the others."

"Why, because she smiled at you? Is that it, Malfoy? Are you just another lovesick brat?" Nott nearly shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you? You need to run away before they get to you or… tell her you can't go with her and you and I will manage somehow."

His concern touched me. No one had really cared about me in such a way, not since my mother had been put away to St. Mungos. It almost brought tears to my eyes. But what could I say to him? I'm drawn to Granger like nothing else. I know she's danger but I can't stay away. Or, I can't break my promise because I'm sure she'll send Aurors after me, putting you and I both in Azkaban? It all sounded pathetic even in my head. Truthfully, I didn't have a good reason. I just needed the change. I craved it with all my being. But I couldn't say that to Nott, not after the two weeks we'd spent in camaraderie.

So, I clapped him on his healed shoulder and faked a smile, instead.

"I promised you we'll make it through," I said to him. "And we have. You're going to go to work and keep your head down. I'm going to go work for Granger and save up what I earn. I'll come back for you and we'll make a run for it. Find some other poor Slytherins to tag along while we're at it and whatever."

He gave me a long hard look, then, one that asked me if I seriously expected him to accept the bullshit I was spouting. I met it dead on. I couldn't back down now. He must have felt that he owed me too much to demand anything more. After all, it wasn't just Granger to whom he owed a life debt. I'd saved him, too. There was resignation on his face when he nodded his head, patting my shoulder gruffly.

"Alright, then," he said simply, composed. His voice sounded sure, but he and I both knew that that was _never _going to happen. "We'll make a run for it."

He knew before even I did. He could see right through my feeble attempts at lying.

Hermione Granger was going to be my undoing and I was just going to let her.

/

It was around half past five in the morning when I arrived at the Ministry of Magic. The building was silent, imposing, and forbidden to the likes of me. I knew this because I'd stupidly gone to my usual backdoor entrance to try and get it. It had been locked with powerful spells and a chain. Though I suspect the chain was more for visuals than anything else.

It was a good thing I knew how to use the visitors entrance, or I'd have probably missed the portkey. I couldn't help wondering that if I had, would Granger would have waited for me? I still can't be sure of the answer to that question.

There was a group of people gathered near the apparation points. Most of them didn't even bother looking up as I exited the visitor lift as quietly as possible (and failed). To their credit, they didn't even blink, not even one of them caring that I was there. Either they didn't know who I was – My Death Eater glory and all that good stuff – or they were wells schooled actors and had been told that I would be tagging along uselessly.

"Malfoy!" Granger exclaimed at me, rushing towards me when she caught sight of me. "How are you?" I'm sorry this is so early – I tried moving up the apparation time, but they just wouldn't let me – did you get here okay? Didn't have any trouble, did you?"

"Um…" I just stared at her. What else could I do? Interrupting her tirade would've probably gotten me kicked off this adventure trip and made me jobless. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm-"

"Great! Have you eaten yet? You probably skipped breakfast, didn't you? I did as well, only, Roger brought a whole thermos full of coffee for me and I don't even _drink _coffee, but-"

"I can see why, Granger," I said, unintentionally cutting off her insane ranting. I swear I hadn't meant to. The sight of her just brought it out of me involuntarily. Like verbal diarrhea. My heart was beating irregularly in my chest. No one had spoken so many useless and meaningless things at me in years. There hadn't been one order peppered throughout that entire crazy speech. "You should probably be cut off, I reckon."

She grinned at me, actually _grinned _at me, as if I'd made some kind of funny joke instead of potentially insulted her. She had been about to respond, probably say something witty and beautiful, her perfect pink lips parted, but someone called on her attention. She gave me one last innocent smile and bustled off to deal with last minute details probably. I stared after her, probably a little more intensely than I should have. I wanted more meaningless order free conversation. No demands just… _pleasantries. _

"You had better watch yourself, mate," I heard from behind me. I turned to find Roger Davies standing there, staring at me in pity. It was an odd thing to behold, seeing that on someone's face. I vaguely recalled him for Hogwarts, barely just. He had obviously seen the entire exchange.

"Pardon?" I asked, just to be polite.

"No one's going to spit on you here, Malfoy, we don't really roll that way if you catch my drift…" He seemed distinctly uncomfortable. As if acknowledging my sub-human status out loud was degrading _him _somehow. "But if you cross that line with Hermione Granger…"

I nodded at him. He thankfully just nodded back and stalked away in the direction Granger had gone, leaving me there by myself. I watched the preparations to leave before me, steeling myself. Davies' had made his threat clear. I hadn't even thought about wanting to just _talk _to Granger for thirty odd seconds and the world had sent me a ringing warning.

_None of that for you, Draco._

_You made your bed. Now you bloody lie in it._

So I put a clamp on my desire, hitching my meagre bag of belongings higher up on my shoulder. I had every intention of coming out of this alive. I wasn't to make small talk with any of these people. I was to keep to myself and follow all orders. I could feel the subservience that I had developed over these last few years take over me. If I was like this, I reasoned, it would be like Davies said. They wouldn't tear into me or beat me into a bloody pulp.

Nevertheless, in those five minutes that remained before we were due to leave to Bulgaria, I stood there and basked in the easy glow of those perfect smiles Granger had directed towards me and _only _me. As if I wasn't a disgusting individual not worthy to lick the dirt off her shoe. It made me warmer than I deserved to feel.

And then, as we all gathered to grasp onto an old copy of the _Daily Prophet_, I stared at her determined face and stamped out any and all feelings I had towards her.

/

No one really bothered talking to each other much, not unless it was absolutely necessary. I imagined it was because of the early hour of the morning and sleep deprivation, despite Granger attempting to offer everyone caffeine.

There were a total of ten people that composed the British Delegation that was to attend the Pureblood Solution conferences held in Bulgaria. This included me. They were all of varied backgrounds. From ex-Death Eaters like myself, to Ministry workers like Granger, to researchers, and even an American – it was a serious good mix. Despite that, I felt no animosity, not against me, the American, or anyone else. It was an alarming change.

To be honest, I was waiting for one of them to corner me and attack.

It never happened.

When we arrived at our destination, it looked nothing like a conference (but I suppose I knew nothing about such things so who was I to judge). But it seemed that this is where we were to stay. No one really bothered to explain things to me and I didn't bother asking since it seemed like a redundant exercise. In any case, they were all busy with their own lot, each seeing to a number of things that apparently urgently needed to be attended to.

We were at some sort of lodge that had Bulgarian Aurors running in and out all day. Apparently my job was to mind the group's luggage, which I suppose wasn't too horrible a job. I sat on the only chair in the biggest room of the place, not bothering to get up and wander off. Granger didn't have time to spare me even a single glance. She seemed busy to the point of exhaustion, to the point where every time I caught I glance of her scurrying about, a wave of tiredness swept through me.

Lunch time came and went. Some of the team members walked past me (not acknowledging me of course, much too busy with their respective tasks) with various food items. I didn't bother hunting for food. It looked like something that would get me in trouble. And anyhow, I had brought only part of my miniscule savings. I didn't want to waste it on something as frivolous as lunch. Who knew how long this trip could be? Granger had said two weeks give or take.

I wasn't really in a position to buy myself lunch every day for two weeks.

Catching glimpses of Granger throughout the day made me lose my appetite all together, anyway. She was like a well-oiled machine. Never too frantic, never bothered. She didn't even stop to eat herself, so I assumed she must've run on just pure magic. Or caffeine. It was probably the caffeine.

It was a pretty good day, in all. All I had had to do was sit there and people watch. No running about and doing demeaning tasks. No overlord to serve. No Mr. Greengrass glaring at me for existing. I didn't even have to talk to anyone, not that anyone wanted to talk to _me. _If this was how the next two weeks were going to progress, it was probably going to be _fun. _Relaxing. Something like vacation. I had no idea what Theo had even been worried about.

The lights dimmed in the room at about half past nine in the evening. After that, not that many Bulgarian Aurors came through. I wondered why that was, just in passing. Not that I cared much. They hadn't given me any trouble. I hadn't seen any of the team members in a few hours. _That _I did care about and wondered if I was expected to just sit here the whole time.

Granger found me sometime past ten. I knew the time and remember it quite well because there was a clock mounted on the wall opposite me. She seemed to be actively searching for me, which I found weird. It wasn't like she'd just stumbled upon me all willy nilly. Her eyes widened when she saw me and her pace quickened towards me.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, slightly panting. "I've been looking everywhere for you. No one's seen you in ages, and I checked your room but you weren't there…"

"My room?" I asked her stupidly.

She paused, her mouth open in the most attractive way. "No one showed you to your room, Malfoy?"

I just shook my head.

She smacked her forehead in frustration. "Have you just been sitting here all day? Have you even _eaten_?"

She seemed so guilt ridden that I shrugged. "Sure, Granger."

I could tell by her narrowed eyes that she didn't buy it, not for a second. I had the decency to flush, I suppose. I don't know where it came from or why, but I was genuinely embarrassed for being clueless. I probably should have put in more effort. She _was _paying me after all. But I had hoped that I could get away with being unnoticeable for a while. Surely she wouldn't fault me for that. I briefly wondered whether she'd send me home for wasting her time.

"Come on, then," she said with a huff. "Everyone's already eaten, but they shouldn't have packed up dinner just yet. We can grab something and I'll show you to your room."

I barely had time to pick up my belongings before she was off again, bouncing along like the ball of energy that she was. I had absolutely no idea how someone could be so energetic when they'd been going at it for over eighteen hours. She was tireless. I was slightly impressed – that is, I would've been slightly impressed if I felt anything for the girl at all. Which I did not. I absolutely did not. Not even the slightest bit of gratitude or curiosity.

"So…where exactly are we, Granger?" I asked when she looked like she was going to burst with awkwardness at having to walk anywhere with me. I suppose I had to take pity on her. "Are we holding your conference in this drab building, then?"

"Goodness no!" she exclaimed. "I swear I told Roger to brief you this morning, but it must have slipped my mind…"

Ah, so there it was. Not going to judge me, what _bullshit. _She was rambling again, but I only half listened. It wasn't as if it mattered anyway. I knew how this was going to play out. They might've had the decency not to spit on my face and stomp me to death, but they sure as hell weren't going to accept me into their fold. Davies had probably purposely left me out of the loop, left me there to sit clueless all day long. He had probably made Granger worried for no good reason. I was going to have to watch myself even closer.

"You know how the Bulgarian are with the secrecy," she was saying. "So we're stuck here for the night. They don't even trust us to take a portkey to the capitol, so we're going by train tomorrow."

That sure made a lot of sense. "And what's this place?"

"Military checkpoint," she said.

There wasn't much need for conversation beyond that point. We'd entered what looked like a cafeteria or a communal kitchen. Or both. Granger walked towards a fridge, just like that without any thoughts of repercussions for _stealing, _and started to pull out a bunch of food items. I assumed she thought half of them were for me, but I couldn't be sure. I slowly went by to stand next to her, keeping one eye on the door in case we were caught, reprimanded, and sent to jail.

When she saw me within arms distance, she dumped half of the things in my arms, officially making me accomplice to her crimes. My heart started to beat a little faster. Maybe she expected me to pay for all this. I didn't have that kind of money, obviously. But she continued to just rummage around to her desire. Before I knew what was happening, she was already back on her way out the door.

"Coming?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at me.

So. Theft it was, then. I just sincerely hoped we wouldn't get caught.

"So…" We were three hallways down before my heart started to calm. "We can just take whatever we want, then?"

Granger was in the midst of biting into an apple. I'm not quite sure why, but the sight of it made my mouth water. And it had nothing to do with the apple, I'm sure. I was too nervous and mortified to be hungry.

"Of course, Malfoy," she said, with a slightly disturbed look on her face. "The Ministry's paying for all expenses on this excursion. They're cheap, but they're not _that _cheap, if you know what I mean. Here, this is you."

She rummaged in her pockets for a key, which she tossed at me, indicating a door that we'd stopped in front of. I caught it, of course, seeker reflexes and all. But opening the door with all that food in my arms, it made me clumsy. I hadn't had a meal like that since the _war _if you can imagine. It made my heart thud right in my throat. Granger had obviously noticed because she didn't walk off. And when I saw her looking at me, the look on her face was depressing. As if she thought I was pathetic or something.

I mean, it was true and all, but she didn't have to be mean enough to let me know. Stupid know-at-all mud-

"If you need anything, Malfoy, I'm in that room over there. 310," she said sincerely, even pointing in the right direction, no doubt to be helpful. "You'll be okay?"

_Of course. Of course I'll be okay, Granger. I've survived this long and I didn't need you to help me do it. Who do you think you are, waltzing into my life and taking pity on me as if I'm some sort of charity case? As if I'm some sort of House Elf that needs protecting! _

I didn't say any of that, though. All I did was nod and thank her.

"Goodnight then, Malfoy," she said, her face a mask of seriousness.

I waited until she'd gone before going into my designated room (which was bigger and cleaner than anything that I'd become used to). I sank down to the floor with my back sliding against the door, even though there was a perfectly sturdy desk in the corner with a lamp on it and a pretty spacious bed, even big enough to accommodate my long legs. Nothing like the mattress at home. I looked down at the dinner she had picked out for me and stared, a little helplessly. My immediate thought was to stash half of it away in my bag for later. Just in case.

And looking at it all brought stubborn tears to my eyes, helpless that I was even thinking of such things. Helpless that I had to resort to charity. Helpless that I even _wanted _it.

I didn't cry though. I swear to you, that night I didn't cry.

She was long gone and she couldn't hear me. But after I'd eaten my fill, stashing away what could be saved easily without suspicion, I lay myself to bed and whispered it back.

"Goodnight, Granger."

**A/N: This chapter reflects my mood pretty well. Fancy that. Please please please take a second to let me know what you thought! **

**I read recently somewhere that reviews are better than sex - shall we test that theory? **

**Until next week, here's an excerpt of the next chapter: **

"Might want to slow down there, Malfoy," she said finally, when I had finished demolishing my pancakes. "You're going to make yourself sick."

"Still going after the caffeine, I see," I retorted.

**Unsigned Reviews: **

**To my French reviewer: **Bonjour! Je ne parle pas beaucoup de fracais, mais vous parlez parfaitment l'anglais! I hope this chapter answered your questions and I'm very glad that you're enjoying. Much love.

**To my anonymous reviewer: **I was flattered to hear that you've been a fan :). I can't say that there won't be suffering but I can assure you that I truly believe in the strength of endurance. I can't really comment about the plot beyond this because I wouldn't want to give away any spoilers. Have a lovely week!


	8. She's Nothing Like You

**A/N:** Would you believe me if I said that I honestly had forgotten that today was Monday? I've had a crazy week. Not much else to say except thank you for all of your lovely reviews and sticking with this. I promise you things will start heating up soon. It just didn't seem realistic to throw these two people together so very randomly. I wanted to be a little realistic.

This was much longer than I had anticipated, so I had to split the chapter in two. The rest will be posted on Monday. Happy Canada day to my Canadians here and a Happy Fourth of July for all you lovely Americans!

**CHAPTER EIGHT: SHE'S NOTHING LIKE YOU**

I was up before the lot of them. I guess working for Mr. Greengrass had given me this sort of habit. Sleep wasn't entirely a necessity, even though the bed was heavenly by my standards. I wasn't entirely sure what I was supposed to be doing, where I was supposed to go, or what was expected of me. I didn't exactly want to overstep my bounds – Granger had seemed rather wary of me yesterday, after all – and it was habit by now to be careful. In the end, I figured I might as well take advantage of that unlocked fridge. Granger hadn't hesitated. I figured I didn't have to either.

It _was _unlocked after all…

It took me a while to retrace my steps to the kitchen/eating place. I must've been too focused on the back of Granger's head last night to have paid too much attention to where we were going. I got there eventually, though, and what I found still kind of makes my mouth water today.

It's ridiculous really. We were in a military camp out, after all. I had gone to Hogwarts and had sat through countless feasts over seven years. But at that moment I had seen nothing more beautiful. It was as if I'd never gone to Hogwarts or lived at the Manor, lived anywhere at all. It was just that moment and a gnawing hunger in my stomach.

It was a reasonably decent spread. Fresh food, too, not even the cheap stuff. There were fruits and cereal, waffles and pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, butter, milk… it made my mouth water and my stomach growl, even though I had eaten a ridiculously large meal last night. I wondered how I would ever return to the meagre rations of my real life after being exposed to this.

I shuddered to think of it.

It was apparently too early to bother with the likes of me, apparently. There were only three Bulgarian Aurors with dark rings of sleeplessness under their eyes, all sitting apart from each other and glaring off into space. They were all sipping coffee and diligently ignoring everything and everyone. I figured they had probably just gotten off the night shift.

I edged towards the food and when the Bulgarians didn't move to stop me, I may or may not have attacked the table.

I was already on my third serving by the time Granger showed up to the party, fixing herself a cup of coffee before sleepily shuffling her way over to me, only carting along some fruit and cereal as her breakfast. I suppose that was fitting. She looked like a delicate little bird with that long white neck of hers. She ought to eat like one too.

I was so focused on eating that I wasn't even startled that she so easily sat with me at my table without a second thought. As if that was a completely normal thing for her to be doing. Her eyes were tired, a little red. Her hair was as wild as the Hogwarts girl I remembered. The only difference was that there wasn't an ounce of resentment on her face as she stared at me.

"Might want to slow down there, Malfoy," she said finally, when I had finished demolishing my pancakes. "You're going to make yourself sick."

"Still going after the caffeine, I see," I retorted.

She was grinning before I even had a chance to gasp. What was it about her that made me lose myself like that? It was starting to get dangerous.

"Would you like a cup?" she asked after a moment, probably just to be polite. "I'm just about to go get another."

I shook my head solemnly. "Can't afford the addiction, Granger."

There was that look again on her small pretty face, the same look from last night. It was as if I were some sort of anomaly, a pity case that she _just _couldn't solve or make out. I saw the indecision on her face. She wanted to ask me what was wrong with me, what was so _wrong _in my life that I was willing to make civil conversation with the likes of her and actually be grateful about it. But she was too polite. That was the Granger that I had always known. Goody two shoes, not about to cross any sort of _boundaries,_ even if it was entirely within her power to do so. It's not like I would've refused to answer any of the questions she asked me. I couldn't.

"Alright then, Malfoy. Finish those waffles and then you and I are going to prepare to get out of here," she said with a nod, her mind clearly made up. "These Bulgarians think they can push me around because I'm British. I'm going to need some muscle if we're going to get out of here before nightfall."

/

It was well past noon when the train finally left the platform. I was sat in a window seat of one of three compartments that Granger had bought out for the team. Naturally, I was all alone. Sitting there by myself and feeling some kind of unnecessary trepidation. Or maybe excitement or perhaps Granger had been right and eating so gluttonously had made me sick. I had my head pressed against the window pane, looking at the deserted platform, leaving it behind.

There was no one there to say goodbye to us there, no one cheerfully waving. No one would miss us. To be honest, there was no one in this world who was going to miss me. I had everything I owned packed in that bag sitting next to me and I was leaving everything behind on that platform, disappearing into the distance.

"Mind if I join you?"

I looked up to find Granger poking her head through the compartment door; her face flushed a lovely shade of red. She was slightly panting, too. Perhaps she had run here, though who the hell runs on a train, for god's sake? I gestured to the seat across from me, not bothering to voice my assent. As if it was possible for me to deny her anything she wanted. She could take it all away from me if she wanted, without even blinking, and I couldn't possibly say no if I valued my life.

But the smile she gave me almost made up for all that. As if she really didn't know about the power she had over me.

I thought about that morning and how she had essentially made me follow her around, hold things for her, but mostly puff out my chest and look threatening to the Bulgarian bureaucrats at the military base. Don't worry, I'm not fooling myself. I'm not about to go say that something like that actually worked. She and I both knew it. She didn't need me there, obviously. She spoke perfect Bulgarian and had a spitfire attitude that pushed things along for her just fine.

"_When did you learn to speak Bulgarian?" I asked her when she and I were following one of the Aurors to a file room. _

"_Oh!" she exclaimed, looking surprised that I was even interested. "Sometime in fifth year. Mostly after the war though… Had to. Came with the job." _

_She held open a door for me and I nodded my head in thanks. It was easy. It was almost _too _easy and I couldn't understand why that was, how it could be like this now. As far as I could remember, nothing had ever been easy with her. It was always competition and animosity. It had always been bloody. Truthfully, it had always been about blood. _

"_So why do you need me here?" I asked her with genuine curiosity. "These people seem afraid of you. You definitely don't need anyone's help." _

_And then she smirked a smirk that the old me could've been proud of. "I just need back up in case one of these guys gets wise and tries to choke me." _

_I laughed silently with her all the way to a room full of files where I enjoyed watching her boss around a bunch of surly Bulgarians who had no choice but to listen to every command she decided to torture them with. I couldn't understand a word she was saying and she knew it, but I think somehow that just made the whole thing even funnier. _

Looking at her now, hours later, she looked different somehow. Gone was the controlling bossy spitfire. In its place was a calm, soft looking creature. She seemed comfortable. Her hair had been tied back, emphasizing her tiny stature. She didn't think twice about sitting across from me. She didn't look at me like she was afraid or angry or even curious at all. Perhaps she knew then. Perhaps she knew that I wasn't a worthy adversary anymore and that she didn't have to worry about me trying to pull one over her.

That was almost depressing. _Almost_.

I looked away from her, then, just in case my mind wandered in directions that weren't appropriate. Instead, I stared out the window and hoped I looked natural, or at least passably so. "So, are you here to tell me all about what you need me to do next?"

"No, actually," she said, shifting around to try and get comfortable. I tried not to pay attention. My face began to heat up oddly. "I'm trying to escape the others. They're being unnecessarily _rowdy_… But we can talk about your contract, Malfoy. I suppose Roger didn't get a chance to brief you yet since you were with me all morning."

She waited, as if she were looking for some kind of affirmation. For what, I couldn't imagine. She had been there, she knew that I'd been with her that morning and alone the day before. Why on earth would I need to re-state that for her?

Or maybe she wanted me to tell her what I already knew: that Davies wasn't about to brief me on anything because Davies hated my guts for being an ex-Death Eater. The same reason that the rest of the ambivalent group probably disliked me. Just because they had the decency to not openly spit in my face, didn't mean that they were going to welcome me with open arms.

There was a reason that there was no one else but Granger in my compartment with me, after all. Davies wasn't going to brief me for shit.

"Whatever you want, Granger," I said when all she did was continue to stare at me.

"Oh, alright," she said slowly, as if she knew the direction my thoughts had been wandering. "I just thought you might want to rest or something. You look quite tired."

An awkward silence passed between us. All I could do was stare in her face, wondering why she even cared about how I felt or looked. Why she would state things like that out loud to someone who had openly hated her guts for most of her adolescent life?

"Anyway," she said, shrugging off my probably too intense stare. "We're going to be there for two weeks and there will be around eight meets. You'll be required to attend all the talks, of course, along with the rest of us. There will be a formal ball at the end of the first week, which should be a right nightmare. All of us are required to be there. If there's time, Roger says that you'll have to make a speech. Don't worry, though. He will help you prepare it before hand."

Well, wasn't that just peachy?

But I just nodded. I was completely dispassionately uninterested in what she was saying, but mesmerized with the way her mouth moved, speaking perfectly enunciated words. Really, she had quite the perfect pair of lips. Even from here, they looked rather soft. I decided right there that I should do whatever I could to continue making her talk to me in that neutral hate-less tone. Merlin knew after this trip was over I wasn't going to see that from anyone ever again.

"So what exactly is this conference business for?" I asked her. "Why are they sending you?"

"I told you, Malfoy, I work for the Ministry. In the department of magical international cooperation. So this is what my job is like," she paused, considering me as if I should've already known this. As if everyone in Magical Britain should have known this fact about her. I didn't blame her for it. She _was _famous after all. But the look in her eye passed as quickly as it came. "It's not so bad. Means I don't get to be home very much, but that's just the cost of life, really."

I just nodded. I got that. The cost of life – doing what you had to do with what you had in order to get where you had to go. Maybe she and I weren't so different after all. She just had a lot more resources and a better place to end up than I did, but it was the same grind. The same sweat and hard work. The same _blood _invested.

"I'm sure you're aware of the pureblood riots in rural Bulgaria," she said, probably in an attempt to answer my first question. But I shook my head, no. I hadn't heard of any such thing. She looked surprised at this. "Really? It's been all over the news for months…"

"I haven't had much time or incentive to read the news, Granger," I said dryly. And no one who would want to talk politics with me, I wanted to say, but held my tongue. Granger looked shocked, like how could I not know about something so monumental? I didn't want her to pry into my pathetic life any more than she already had so I stalled. "So, why are these pesky agrarian purebloods rebelling?"

She stifled a snort and I mentally patted myself on the back. Crisis averted. "The Bulgarian Ministry has passed a lot of… well, _repressive _laws to subdue them. A majority of them were Voldemort supporters, but that I'm sure you were aware of."

Yeah, actually. That I _had _been aware of. Voldemort had at the beginning of the war turned to his foreign supporters – Bulgarians included – for galleons as he had turned to his British followers to offer their minds, bodies, families, and souls – to sacrifice themselves as soldiers of the Dark. Of course Granger knew I knew all of this. It was slightly cruel and inappropriate of her to even mention it, but she seemed unaware that she'd even done anything wrong.

"So for the past several months, the Bulgarian purebloods living in the cities have been attempting to lobby the Bulgarian government. And when that failed, they began to protest outright. The conference was called when the death toll started to get 'obscene' – not my words," she said with a look of disgust on her face. "The Bulgarian Minister is… obtuse, to say the least."

I didn't bother stifling my snort at her open, honest words. She smiled at me for it and I couldn't help it, I smiled back even though I shouldn't have. I probably should've spat in her face and called her a mudblood, but all I could do was smile. She was being kind to me for no goddamn reason. I should've stopped it in those early stages when I could've. Would've saved her a world of trouble, but I didn't have it in me. I craved the attention.

"So what are you supposed to do about all of this?" I asked when she finally looked away.

"_We _and representatives from a few other Ministries are gathering to advise the Ministry of policy options that don't break human rights and Wizarding international laws," she responded dully without bothering to look up at me, as if this was something she'd had to repeat over and over again to dozens and dozens of people on several separate occasions.

"Like what?" I asked, not particularly interested but interested to continue on the conversation. "Going to get them to institute the British way?"

I had been only joking, being light hearted and all that nonsense, but she nodded. She nodded at my sarcasm.

"Well, Malfoy, it's not like we're killing off ex Death Eaters by the droves…" she trailed off. It was obvious to me that she was being rhetorical and it caused my heart to clench painfully.

"Aren't you?" I asked gently, something settling over me like a wave of despair.

"Well…" she stared at me, something like uncertain shock on her face. I didn't even have the proper sense to appear ashamed and that's probably what threw her off. Unlike her, I _wasn't _being rhetorical. Not in the least. "What do you mean?"

What _did _I mean? What did she think I meant? Hadn't she seen for herself my decrepit lifestyle, the way Nott had been beaten to a bloody pulp? Hadn't she seen the Death Eater offices at the ministry, the forms that had come from her best friend's department to regulate us, the shame and the shackles that followed us everywhere we went? Had she not seen the weary faces on the streets that day I had saved her life? Had she seen all that and not cared?

I just shook my head at her when it looked like she expected a real answer. I saw her for real then, or so I thought, as she actually was. She was a representative of the Ministry of Magic, all that was holy and peaceful, the righteous and graceful. She couldn't _not _know the reality of things, what the Ministry was doing to us back home. It couldn't have been any better than what was happening in Bulgaria. There may have not been Avadas and Crucios in the papers, but it was all just the same and she was one of the ones doing it. Repressing us, reminding us that we were nothing but evil dirt.

And here I was, sitting across from her, _working _for her.

Bile rose to my throat. What exactly had she brought me here for? So the Bulgarians were rebelling. The Ministry was going to help the Bulgarians trample all of them down while still looking like they were righteous, I supposed. It looked like it from what Granger was saying. What had she said? Proper human rights or some such nonsense.

As if any of us Death Eaters actually had human rights.

I didn't want to know what was in store for me once we reached our destination, but I already knew that I should've bloody asked before signing on. I had seen the price tag and the thought of a vacation, and it had lured me away. I shouldn't have been so greedy. I should've just kept my bloody head down and continued on in my place in life, curiosity about Granger being damned.

What was Granger even going to make me do? Help starve those Bulgarian Death Eaters like they were starving us back home? Take away their lives? Help them adjust to the life that the British Ministry had forced me to live?

I felt a real sadness spread through me then, looking at her inquisitive face staring at me. I hadn't felt this sad since just after my sentence had been given down after the Death Eater Trials. This was the ultimate deception. She seemed so soft, so innocent, the only person that had looked at me and seemed genuinely alright to see me there breathing. But really, I had to remember that she wasn't here to do me any favours. It was her and her people that were out to crush me out of existence. I could never forget my place, lest she use it against me.

I was going to have to remember to stay subservient to all that was Hermione Granger.

"Malfoy?" she called to me gently, as if she was actually concerned about upsetting me. I had to remember that people like her were never going to give a damn about people like me, even if she was a fantastic bloody actress. She _had _fooled aunt Bellatrix after all. She was devious. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said as bluntly as I could, putting on that pleasant mask of nothing that these elite people so preferred on their servants.

_You're not like her, _I had to tell myself. _She's not like you. _

"But…" she seemed stumped. 'What were you going to say? You can tell me anything, you know. This issue merits debate and-"

_She's never going to be anything like you. _

"There's nothing I can say that's going to change who you are and what you stand for, Granger," I said, feeling like all the world had abandoned me all over again.

"Okay," was all she said in gentle acquiescence, as if I needed coddling.

We sat in silence for some time, the chugging of the train the only noise between us, clambering on to our destination. For as much as I wanted to ignore her – and I should've, should've gone to the other compartments and endured the awkwardness instead of sit there and let myself be compromised any further – I couldn't get her out of my mind. She filled up the whole space with her persona, her tiny birdlike body, her slight movements.

Maybe I wasn't used to spending downtime with other people anymore, but my skin was on fire just being this close to her, not saying anything at all. Maybe it was just the fact that I'd started to become comfortable around her and she had pulled the rug out from under my feet, reminding me that after all this was over, I was going to have to go home and suffer like this had never even happened.

Eventually, she smiled up at me, slightly awkwardly. "Didn't you bring anything to do, Malfoy?"

I was startled that she was still bothering to talk to me. For all I knew, she thought I was a bloody psycho for talking to her as I had. But her smile, as it had been doing all this while, disarmed me. I shook my head gently, softly so as not to startle her – or myself.

"Well, would you like something to read?" she asked.

I thought for a second that maybe she was just being polite to me. It was in her nature, after all. And then the irony struck me and I couldn't help but smile. Of course she of all people would be offering me something to read.

"So, still a bookworm then, Granger?" I couldn't help but say. She burst out laughing and shrugged as if embarrassed. "Well alright then. What have you got with you? Caring around a library with you like you did in school?"

She blushed and I felt a pang of fear. Of course I'd say the one inappropriate thing that would embarrass her. But then she squared her shoulders, probably remembering that she was worth a million of me no matter what she did. She gestured me over to sit next to her and opened her bag wide between us.

"Holy shit," I whistled. "You really _are _carting around a library!"

"I'm between houses," she said, as if that explained away everything. "Here, this one's good," she said, picking one out of the pile and handing it over. "Or this…"

She paused, her fingers brushing against mine. A pleasant jolt spread down my back when she didn't immediately remove her hands from mine, making sure that I had grasped her precious book properly before she let go. Her fingers were soft. She was the first person that had voluntarily touched me in years, even if it was just an accident. I was tempted to find a reason to do it again or to screw it all and just grab onto her, refusing to let go.

I wondered if she'd kill me for it.

Even though Astoria Greengrass thought she was in love with me and touched me sweetly all the time, she really only wanted that marginal comfort the idea of love could give her. She wanted to take away the guilt of running away during the war. She had concepts of honour and felt bad that the marriage contract that my parents had created for the both of us in our birth was never going to be fulfilled now that I was poor.

But Granger didn't need me. Granger didn't need anyone. And Granger didn't have all that extra baggage attached. When Granger touched me, she was always going to do it willingly. She was no Astoria Greengrass.

_She's not like you, _I had to repeat to myself.

Granger had created a neat pile for me, chattering about each book as I had my little moment, thinking about her. It took me several more moments of listening to her ramble nervously before I finally thanked her. Her responding smile was entirely too brilliant. I had to look away and continue chanting to myself. I was never going to be like her. I could no longer speak with her and this was the last time I was allowed to accept her charity. If only because sitting silently and staring at her for the entire train ride would've been awkward for her.

When she curled up against the window, opening a book, I leaned back. I didn't bother moving back to my seat across from her. What was the point? I knew I would end up watching her read, trying to figure out her motives for being so goddamn nice to me, when the both of us knew she was probably leading me to slaughter when we finally reached the Bulgarian capital. I crossed my legs, pretending to be comfortable, and dug into the small fortune that Granger had tossed at me, as if it really was nothing.

For the next few hours, I drifted in and out of fantasies, Arithmancy problems, the newest potion maker's manual version 5.0, and the wonderful history of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.

/

It was the hand on my shoulder that startled me awake.

"Shh, Malfoy, it's alright," said the soothing voice above me. My bleary eyes saw Granger's head and her mass of hair floating above me. It took me a whole minute to realize that I'd slouched down and fallen asleep on the train. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, still slightly confused. "Whasgoing-on?"

"We're here," she said, chuckling at my confusion. "I'm just going to go and check up on everyone else. I'll be back in a minute, alright? Gather your things and wait for me here."

Like I would wait for her anywhere else and risk getting mistaken for a Death Eater. Sometimes the girl was rather daft. But I couldn't tell her that because my brain was still slightly bogged down with confusion and sleep and because she'd bolted out the door before I could even sit up straight.

When I finally did, a blanket fell off my shoulders. It wasn't mine, surely. I didn't even own more than that one blanket that I'd left behind with Nott. Someone had put it on me when I'd stupidly fallen asleep with Granger in the same compartment. No, _Granger _had put it on me while I'd fallen asleep with her in the same compartment! Bloody hell, though, I hadn't done something this stupid in a very long time. Feeling comfortable enough to sleep with a Ministry official around, when they could do anything they wanted to you…

I jumped up, running my hands over myself in panic. What if she had cursed me? Poisoned me? Written to the Ministry to come and get me… I glanced out the train window to see we were stopped at a station. I still had time. I could run for it before Granger came back.

I was about to make a dash for my things when I tripped soundly over the blanket that had fallen to the floor. The blanket that Granger had no doubt wrapped around me when I'd fallen asleep. That she'd been considerate enough to conjure for me. After she'd given me access to her books…My heart clenched again for the millionth time that day. My brain had trusted her enough to fall asleep with her in the same room. She had been kind enough to accommodate me, to take care of me as if I were some kind of _friend. _

"She's not like you," I whispered to my reflection, staring back at me from the glass window.

"Are you usually this slow when you wake up?" Granger said from behind me, startling the hell out of me. "Sorry, did I scare you? We're just a tiny bit behind schedule."

I didn't say another word. She didn't either, gathering her things and vanishing the blanket. She did sneak a glance at me though, thinking she was being all discreet about it. I had to bite my cheek to stop from smiling. She shook her head awkwardly and began chatting about the book I'd fallen asleep with, probably to fill the silence and continued on all the way out of the train, onto the platform, and into a set of cars that took us to a lavish palace.

I would've looked around, honestly, I would've. But Granger was still talking to me and it seemed stupid not to pay attention to the way her lips moved pleasantly, reminding me that she didn't hate me, not really.

I physically had to pinch myself to remember that no, she was _nothing _like me and that I could have _nothing _to do with her.

**A/N: ****I hope you guys all enjoyed this and had a lovely week. Here's something to cut the time between now and Next Monday: **

"Hermioninny!"

The duck footed, enormously muscled man grasped the little waif like form of his (ex?)-girlfriend, possibly lover and swung her around gleefully, hugging her to his chest. He was clearly happy to see her, which made me think that perhaps the star crossed lovers didn't get to see each other very often. The thought made me cringe a little internally and the idea of throwing my bag at the servants and marching inside seemed a lot more favourable just then.

**Response to the Unsigned Reviews: **

**Wasted: **Thank you! It's flattering that you think all of those things. New chapters are up every Monday!

**Jeck: **You are ENTIRELY too kind. : ) Thank you for reviewing.

**DJK: **Thank you for reviewing! I do hope the rest of it isn't lackluster or disappointing.


	9. The Wizarding Quarter

**A/N: **This is the second half of the last chapter. I'm really sorry I'm late! I only just got home from work and this is the first time all day I've had to read over this. I spent this past week writing as much as I possibly could because this month (and probably the next) are going to be completely crazy busy. I really do enjoy updating weekly, so that's going to continue on for some while at least.

**A special shout out to my really lovely reviewers: **buttercup88, Guest, awesomeladanchica, HG4eva, UschiBuschi, irezei, christinahhh, lita rocks LbC, kitcatscratch, and LadyLiliaAnne.

An extra special thank you to kitcatscratch because girl… you just get me.

How was the 4th of July for you guys? And Canada day for you Canadians? Enough rambling! On with the show.

**CHAPTER NINE: THE WIZARDING QUARTER**

The Pureblood Solution conferences were being held in Sofia, Bulgaria, the capital and headquarters of the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic. The city, unbeknownst to the Bulgarian muggle population, housed the majority of Bulgaria's magical community in a magically warded part of the city entitled the Wizarding Quarter. It was also where all the delegations attending the conference would be staying as well, including ours.

The second I stepped out of the carriage that had taken us here from the train station, I realized that I was entirely out of my depth.

That wasn't a new feeling by any means, not at that point of my life. I'd been getting into precarious situations, biting off more than I could chew for years now, ever since I had taken the Dark Mark instead of dying right then and there. But one never really gets used to the feeling of steeping into something that is so clearly beyond them. The slight pinch of awkwardness is always going to be there, accompanied by a healthy dose of fright and possibly a little shame.

Or was that just me?

In any case, it was just ironic in my head, stepping out of that carriage on that day right behind Granger – being careful not to touch her, of course. It was ironic because even though the world had tried to stamp it out of me, I still remembered that my father had raised me for this exact moment, just as his father had prepared him and so on. It had been in my family for generations. I had always been destined to lead the political life as my father had, as generations of Malfoy's had been doing since the very birth of the Ministry of Magic.

This is who we were. This is who I was meant to be.

And despite everything that had happened, despite the last three years of utter misery and dejection, here I was, participating temporarily in what would have been my permanent vocation if I had just done something differently in my life. If the beast named Voldemort had just not existed…

We were standing outside the grandest hotel I had ever set eyes on, at least in the past couple of years. I was aware that it was smack dab in the centre of the Bulgarian Wizarding Quarter, where the richest of this society lived. And it was obvious too – the red carpeting on the steps, the spirals, the rich architecture, the servants lined up to cater to us… It was all over the top. It was the exact lavishness that had been ripped away from me. I wasn't used to this kind of stuff anymore. I would've probably been happy to be housed in a cellar.

Yet, these were to be my lodgings – the lodgings of the entire English delegation. Perhaps everyone participating in this farce was to stay here. Granger had not given me too many details. In fact, she had left me standing there and had waltzed up the carpeted steps to address our welcoming party. But I paid them no mind.

Once upon a time, these things, this grandeur would have failed to impress me. I would've thrown my luggage to the servants that were conveniently standing by and imperiously walked on into my room without a second glance. Perhaps I would've even sneered at the staff, the people who bothered to come in my way, and even the lowly mudblood who was just standing a few steps ahead of me…

I had always been destined to be here, after all. I considered doing just that.

But I was no longer that person anymore. I had buried him with the rest of my feelings, family, and wealth. Hitching my bag up closer to me and nodding politely at the staff that was unloading the rest of the group's luggage, I went to stand next to the American, who didn't even glance up to acknowledge me. Just the way it was meant to be.

Just as I began to wonder if we would simply spend the rest of our time camped up on these hotel stairs, there was a shout of glee and a thundering of footsteps.

"Hermioninny!"

The duck footed, enormously muscled man grasped the little waif like form of his (ex?)-girlfriend, possibly lover and swung her around gleefully, hugging her to his chest. He was clearly happy to see her, which made me think that perhaps the star crossed lovers didn't get to see each other very often. The thought made me cringe a little internally and the idea of throwing my bag at the servants and marching inside seemed a lot more favourable just then.

I didn't do any such thing, of course. I wasn't _stupid_, contrary to popular belief.

He kissed her cheek and she smiled brightly in return. I won't say I was offended or anything, but the lumbering idiot got an even brighter smile than I had, and I was sure he hadn't spent any length of time reading Granger's arithmancy books. Did they even teach arithmancy at Durmstrang, or was it too complicated a subject for these folk? In any case, it was all rather dull and I felt a bit cheated.

I had to mentally remind myself that all of this was a good thing, that I didn't want or need that kind of attention from Granger – or anyone – anyway, because it was most likely going to get me killed. But really, what irked me about the situation was his hands all over her. If I were to put my hands on _anyone _in public, I'd probably be fired. Even if it was someone other than Granger. Not that I'd want that. Right?

Maybe it was just her blankets.

What? No, really, my thoughts were a jumbled mess, staring at the affection that was on full frontal display before me. I was ready for them to start snogging and whatever else right there in front of all of us. But apparently, this was how the other side just greeted each other because I seemed to be the only one paying any attention to the pair.

Granger eventually introduced the rest of the team to Krum. He recognized Davies from his visit to Hogwarts all those years ago – but then, I suppose the only notable thing about Roger Davies at Hogwarts had been his great luck in snagging Fleur Delacour for the Yule Ball. Krum didn't recognize me at all, though he was polite enough to give me a nod of acknowledgement. It was more than I had expected from the surly Quidditch player I may or may not have idolized in my youth.

Everyone moved towards the doors. Granger was handing out labeled folders because she was all organized like that. She gave me an indulgent smile when she handed me mine and I felt like that made up for her disgusting display of affection for Krum – which, why on earth was he here anyway? Was Bulgaria really that small? What on earth could a Quidditch player contribute to the politics of blood?

But then, I had to remember, what on earth could _I _contribute to this whole charade? What on earth was I doing here?

When I snapped out of my thoughts, everyone had dispersed – even Granger. Opening up my assigned folder, I found schedules and maps, all sorts of relevant information, as well as a numbered room key. I swallowed. No keeping tabs on the ex Death Eater, then. No suspicion. Just a smile and off you go, Mr. Malfoy.

It was the most trust anyone had ever show me in years and it made me feel vaguely uncomfortable.

I wondered when the other shoe would drop.

/

I woke up before everyone else, as was quickly becoming routine. I preferred it that way, really. The utter silence that came with dawn, not even the chirping of birds prevalent yet. Perhaps it was the newness or the calming chill that came with a new day - a fresh beginning - that gave me such peace. Or maybe it was the brilliance of watching the sun break through the horizon, rising so surely day after day that made me feel just that much more certain of myself.

It reminded me that life stopped for no one and, if nothing else was certain, I knew that the world would keep spinning on. It gave me some measure of confidence that nothing else could.

Granger's excellent schedules let me know that breakfast was to be served in the dining hall at half past nine. A decent time for most people, I imagine, but I had been rising at half past five since my sixth year and that habit wasn't easy to break in the least. Maybe it was the newness of the day or the memory of Granger's smile that made me bold enough to leave the hotel and wander.

Well, if I am to be perfectly honest, it was most likely the thought of Krum and Granger sharing a room that got to me. I didn't know which room either of them were staying in. They had seemed more than amicable judging by their display yesterday. It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that they were together. Together like _that. _I could just picture them sharing a bed and the idea of that made me slightly sick for some reason, even if I hadn't eaten anything in a while.

So, I left the safety of the hotel and onto the streets of the Wizarding Quarter of Bulgaria. I wasn't entirely sure what I would find, though all of the patrons of the hotel spoke constantly of the danger of being attacked by the pureblood rebels. I wasn't too worried though, really. I had nothing of value under my name or on my person.

The streets were clean and blissfully deserted. It felt a lot like home, really. In fact, I could imagine that I was walking to work right about then. Only, I felt a lot safer here. Back in London, there was always the chance of being assaulted. I suppose I was still in the good part of town, though, since there was not a soul about – not a pureblood rebel or anyone else in sight.

I don't even know how long I wandered or why. I just felt compelled to go on, let my feet carry me and worry about the rest later. It wasn't as if I had anyone waiting for me, anything to do. I had no responsibilities, beyond what Granger had thought fit of my station.

So not very much at all.

"Hey, you there!" someone was shouting. "Stop! Stop!"

I froze in spot, turning to see a young woman and a man gesturing wildly at me. What for, I could hardly know. Turning around, I saw that there were several scared and slightly drawn faces staring right at me. In all my wandering, I had apparently waltzed onto an active street. Staring around at my surroundings, I supposed I had left Sofia's wizarding proper and into the dreary part of town. The buildings were shabby and the people were dressed even shabbier.

The man and the woman approached me cautiously, staring at me as if I were a ticking time bomb about to explode in their faces. Or perhaps a murdering maniac. I couldn't quite be sure which just yet.

"There's a good lad. Back away now. You don't want to be going down that way," he said to me in his attempt at what was probably supposed to be a calming voice.

I looked back over my shoulder and saw that they were barring me going down and even shabbier street that was completely deserted. There was rubble on the streets and the buildings seemed to be in disrepair. There were doors knocked down, glass strewn about the pavement, and big red markings on the walls. Perhaps it was Bulgarian graffiti. Something told me it was much more ominous.

"Why not?" I asked. Sure, it seemed rather sketchy, but I had definitely seen worse in my day.

At the sound of my voice, the man seemed to calm considerably. He turned around and waved at the crowd that had suspiciously gathered around us. "It's alright! He's just a lost foreigner!"

The woman smiled at me and nudged the man. "Papa, don't be rude." She turned to me. "My name is Ingrid. This is my father Victor."

I attempted a polite smile, though I was still supremely confused. "Common name?"

She wrinkled her nose prettily. "I suppose it is. My brother is also named Victor, after my dear silly old father here."

Victor Senior seemed to check into the conversation at that point and tugged affectionately at his daughter's ear. "Why don't you go on and find your brother before I teach you a lesson in respect, you cheeky girl. Why don't _you _come with me? We should not stand here for very long. We don't know who might be watching."

And he started off before I could even begin to process what was going on. The girl had already hurried away and her father was already talking over his shoulder, presumably at me. What was I supposed to do, really? The mystery of it all got to me. So, naturally, I hurried after him to figure out what was going on.

/

The sun was just rising properly, hitting the thatched roofs of the shabby buildings. As I walked behind Victor Sr., I noticed that the area seemed to get shabbier as I walked along with him. Soon we were passing cottages with makeshift doors, holes in roofs covered with soggy blankets, and broken windows. It looked like the drabby part of London where the most desperate Death Eaters had to live – those no one would hire.

I jumped when a child in rags ran past us, chasing an angry looking cat. Victor senior didn't seem to even notice the sad sight. Then again, Victor senior didn't seem like the most observant man in the world. He hadn't once turned around to see if I was actually following him, choosing to chatter at me obliviously. Wouldn't it have been quite the sight to see this kindly man walking about, chattering at absolutely _nothing? _

I can't say I caught a word of anything he said to me that day. Even if I had, after all of these years, the drivel quite escapes me.

We finally reached a well maintained cottage, as well maintained an area like this could be, anyway. In fact, the inside looked just as good as my shabby little apartment back home. It made me feel like I had come to the right place, to people who understood my condition and how life was meant to be lived. It wasn't much, probably only what they could afford, but there were signs everywhere of trying to make do. It was obvious the people who lived here had tried to make the place as livable as possible and welcoming.

Victor senior was hugging and kissing a woman – presumably his wife – who seemed to be worried out of her mind. Victor was speaking to her in rapid Bulgarian and gesturing wildly, occasionally pointing at me, as if I were to blame for the sun not rising and the worries of the entire world.

"You must excuse me," the lady finally said. "In times like these, when our families do not come home when expected… It is a cause for great worry."

Her English was impeccable with the barest hint of an accent. I don't know why I was surprised. She was very pretty with rosy cheeks. There were lines around her eyes and mouth, probably from laughing in a very long and happy life. I shook her hand when she offered it and smiled back when she smiled at me. How could I not with a woman who had a face like that?

She led me to what was probably the family dinner table and offered me a seat. I sat, of course, not wanting to be rude, but mostly just wanting to collect myself. Staring at this worried woman before me, so obviously devoted and in love with her family, reminded me of my own mother. I thought of her then, wasting away in St. Mungos, and felt like I could sob right then and there in front of all of these strangers.

In all my musings, the children seemed to have arrived home, being hugged and kissed by their mother at the door. It seemed like a customary greeting. I may have been briefly jealous.

"So, what is your name?" the son asked me, once we'd been seated. "What are you doing here?"

His sister had glared at him. "What he means to say is, what brings you to the Wizarding Quarter?"

"It's quite alright," I smiled awkwardly, not used to my facial muscles moving in such a direction. "My name is Draco. I'm… I'm working with the English delegation at the Pureblood Solution conferences."

It was the weirdest thing ever. No one questioned my presence after that. I was served breakfast as if I were an expected guest. No one questioned why I was there or how I had just randomly wandered into this part of the Wizarding Quarter. They even all spoke in rather fluent English so I could participate in the conversation. It was surreal. I had never felt so welcomed anywhere in my entire life, not even in my own home. _Ever. _

I imagined this is what family and civilization was supposed to be like.

"Have you been to many places in Sofia, Draco?" the mother asked me.

I shook my head no. "We only just arrived yesterday. But maybe… maybe if they don't ask me to participate in too many of the talks, I can." That sounded like a diplomatic enough answer.

"What are they expecting you to do?" Victor Senior asked me. "You are a pureblood too, like us."

"Victor!" his wife exclaimed and everyone stared at me.

I just shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. I was asked by Hermione Granger and I couldn't say no."

"Hermione Granger is in _Bulgaria?" _Ingrid exclaimed, standing up. I nodded. Her mother had to physically pull her back into her seat. It took her a full minute to calm down, much to the chagrin of her mother. Victor senior seemed amused. "Well if _she _is here, maybe these conferences aren't such a bad idea, right papa? She can speak out against the injustice!"

No one said anything for a moment, probably digesting Ingrid's optimism. I could tell that they, like me, had given up optimism all together and I wondered how bad these pureblood rebellions had actually been. Granger had said that the Ministry had killed the rebels by the droves and taken away the land of the rest. Maybe these people had suffered even more than I had. Yet… here they were, opening their doors to a practical stranger.

"How did you know I was a pureblood?" I asked them to break the silence.

"Come now," Victor senior said with a wave of his hand. "You have the Malfoy hair, son. We've heard of your family for generations. It's not right what they did with your mother."

Emotion welled in my chest again. "Thank you," I nodded.

Ingrid, noticing the shine in my eyes, continued to chatter on about this and that. We spoke of many things that morning, the sun shining through the small windows, making everything glow and look cleaner than they actually were. They told me of trivial day to day things. Problems that may have seemed regular, but now that I think of it, it all had an undertone of misery.

Crop restrictions, water restrictions, _land _restrictions… Everything.

"So, why was I not allowed to go down that street?" I eventually asked them when all was once again at ease.

Everyone paused and Victor Jr. stared curiously at his father. Victor senior waved his son away. "We do not go down there, son," he said to me gravely. "It is forbidden."

"But why?" I pushed. It was all just too curious to ignore. "What's down there?"

It seemed that no one really knew what to say to me. The family members stared at one another trying to figure out how to tell this stranger, this foreigner, the reality of their lives in plain terms. It wasn't an easy thing, I realized after.

Eventually, the mother looked at me dead in the eyes and said, "We do not go down there. It is watched from both sides. It is the stronghold of the rebels and anyone who crosses the threshold is either cursed dead or worse."

I nodded guiltily, realizing that there was something unsaid in that statement.

"Come, friend," Victor Jr. said to me before I could begin to apologize profusely. "Gather your things. I will take you where you need to go."

/

He didn't speak to me for a good block away from his house. I thought perhaps he had been offended at my questioning earlier. "I'm sorry if I crossed a line, mate-" I begin to say.

He quieted me, looking around. I realized then that he was really just looking for privacy. What for, I couldn't imagine at that point in time. Everything that morning had been so weird already though, so I didn't find it entirely unreasonable. I just complied as I had been doing up until that point and waited for him to gather himself.

We were already a couple of blocks away when he pulled me into a side alley, his hands gripping my shirt and pressing me against the wall. I didn't bother struggling. The look on his face cried of desperation. I'd seen that look enough times on the faces of my friends, the face of my father, hell, on my own face too.

"You must tell me now and speak truthfully," he whispered harshly. "Why are you here? Did you seek out my father in the street? Are you here for the rebels? Who sent you?"

"I didn't lie to you, mate," I told him as calmly as I could. I patted the hand that gripped me. "I really did come here for the pureblood conferences. Couldn't afford to turn down the money."

He stared at me hard, as if trying to figure out if I were lying or not. I mean, it did sound rather absurd. A Malfoy – a family they'd obviously heard of – not being able to afford to turn down the money? It sounded a little fishy, sure. But I was sincere and maybe he could tell, for he let me go and brushed me off, walking out of the alley without a backward glance. I followed, not entirely sure what I was supposed to do at that point.

"Then things are as bad in your country as they are in mine," Victor Jr. said eventually, giving me a sideways glance. "I apologize for… how you say… manhandling you."

I snorted. "That's the first apology I've heard in ages."

We didn't speak for a while, just walking back. I followed him because I didn't have many other options. I didn't know where I was or how to get back to the hotel. I didn't recognize any of the streets we walked down, though I suppose these things do look different in the light of day and with people walking about – other than lowly rebel affiliated purebloods that is.

"Do you think Hermione Granger is going to change anything? All of my father's friends speak of her and how she lobbied your government for house elf rights and _won_." I could sense a grudging respect in his voice. Truthfully, I had had no idea that Granger had even done such a thing.

"I don't know," I told him honestly. I had no idea why I was compelled to be honest to this relative stranger that had been ready to dispose of me a few moments ago, but I felt connected to him in a profound way. We were brothers in circumstance. "I think in her heart she means well, but she is, in the end, one of them."

He immediately knew who I meant by _them. _It was relieving not to have to hold my tongue.

"I don't even know why I'm here," I confided in him. "The whole thing looks to be a farce. Things back home, they may not be as blatantly bad as they are here, but they're just as bad."

Saying it out loud made it even realer for me. Victor Jr. nodded slowly, taking in my honesty. I could feel a sort of trust blooming between us. I felt that he got me then.

"Was there a rebellion in your country?" he eventually asked.

I shook my head, no. We hadn't gotten the chance and probably would never get one. "After the Dark Lord was defeated, they put us on trial and sent us to prison. Those of us who managed to survive got carded. Now they take our money, turn us to the streets, and keep us there long enough to starve or muck up our fake chance at freedom to be locked up after all."

A strange sort of gloom set itself upon me, making that admission to him. My companion, too, seemed pained. I could tell we had seen the same things, lost the same identities, and had our lives ripped from us because we were born to undeserving statuses. There was a murderous glint to his eyes, knowing the bond that we shared between us.

"They killed my brother during the first rebellion," he said slowly, vehemently. As if this fact was something that ruled his entire being. "The rebels, _our _people, were rallying in the main square, the street that my father forbade you from entering. The hit wizards came. They killed everyone. They butchered our women and children and fighters."

"I'm sorry," I said with as much meaning as I could muster. What else could I say?

"I am sorry, too," he said to me sincerely. "They locked up your father and drove your mother mad in that asylum. Stories have been told."

I had nothing to say to that. I didn't want to. I knew he was trying to acknowledge my pain, share and blend his misery with mine, but that was something I actively avoided. I did not want to bond with people I would never see again. Beyond Nott, I didn't want to see anyone in my life I cared about ever again. And that was only because Nott was keeping some of my possessions safe.

And yet, I couldn't pull myself away. This not-so-stranger had revealed his dark history to me in hopes that I could affirm its horrific reality. I couldn't turn him down.

I made the effort to pat him on his shoulder, even though it went against every grain of self preservation in my being. He merely nodded, as if this were enough, as if any of this were common place. As if misery did indeed love company instead of preferring to wallow in its solitary, graceless existence.

When we reached the hotel, Victor Jr. shook my hand. I thought that would've been the last of our odd encounter – the end of my surreal morning – but he held me close. "The rebels live in that alley. They watch the entrance. They would've seen you about to cross the threshold. They're going to try and figure out who you are now."

I opened my mouth, but what was there to say in response to such a declaration? Apparently, I didn't need to say a thing, for he wasn't finished.

"They're amassing," he whispered. "The Ministry knows it. There are whispers everywhere. If these conferences do nothing good, they're going to attack how we were attacked and massacred. I've even heard talks of assassination in the dead of night."

This last was said in a hushed, scared whisper. My heard began to pound. "But surely they can't…surely they know better-"

"If your conferences do nothing, we're going to leave Sofia and never come back." It was blunt. I could see that their family must have deliberated it for months, argued over it. "You must promise me you'll do everything you can to make it a success. _Promise _me."

It was the most intense demand a stranger had ever made of me. Even Voldemort had simply waved an imperious hand and expected compliance. But this was a plea. The same intensity of Dumbledore's dying wish to Severus Snape.

"_Severus… Please…_"

"Yes," I heard myself saying. "Yes, of course."

He nodded then, shaking my hand between both of his before looking about him. A lot of the people out and about were giving him odd looks, some of them even going so far as glaring at the young man. Perhaps it was his clothing that gave him away for what he was. They were even shabbier than mine. I got that, though, I was used to this kind of scrutiny. He didn't belong here.

"I must go," he said to me, realizing he could be caught in a terrible bind if we continued our chat here in the open. "If it comes to us leaving, I'll ask father if you can come with us."

And with those kind words that made my heart clench – for the man barely knew me and yet was willing to go to such brilliant lengths – he was off into the crowd, leaving me standing on the plush carpeted steps of the hotel that neither of us truly belonged in.

/

I eventually did go inside, even though I didn't really want to. The day was beautiful, the skies clear and sunny, and Victor Jr.'s words were ringing in my head.

They could leave this place, this madness. They were planning on doing it. Hadn't I made Nott the exact same promise just before I'd left? Nott had known it was absolute bullshit, of course. There was no way to get out of England legally if you were an ex Death Eater/criminal/lowly and poor like us folk. And the illegal methods were dangerous, almost always resulting in capture and/or death. Only the bravest or the most desperate ever attempted it.

But I was already out of the confining borders of Britain. I was already half free…

Really, it had been a little bit of an oversight on Granger's part, not keeping closer tabs on me. There was nothing stopping me from going back up to my room, gathering my meager belongings, and getting the hell out of there. I could maybe find my way back to Victor Jr.'s house, give them what gold I had with me in return for safe passage outside of Bulgaria. They probably knew something or someone who could help me.

Or, if they refused me. I could possibly find my own way. I had always been pretty alright in finding my own way. I could manage it. I could get the hell out of here permanently. I could leave Europe and its gruesomeness behind. I could maybe go state side and learn the muggle life, snap my useless wand so no one could ever find me again.

I could leave all of this behind and actually, truly be free – done with it all. It was a dangerous but entirely realistic thought. There was no one in sight to stop me.

As I made my way to the staircase, thinking of what I should do and where I ought to go, someone chased after me, shouting my name.

"Draco!" I turned around to find a flushed faced Granger waving at me and destroying any immediate plans. "You missed breakfast. Are you feeling well? Are you hungry? I saved you some toast, just in case."

I felt instantly guilty for thinking of running away and simultaneously annoyed at Granger for being so trusting and naïve. Didn't she know what I was capable of? Didn't she know I wasn't trustworthy? I had tried to destroy her once upon a time for Merlin's sake. Why was she being so nice to me? But most of all, why on earth did she insist on smiling at me as if I deserved something so courteous and special?

"No, uh…" I faltered, deciding what to say. In the end I decided to go with the truth. I didn't think she would betray me on something so menial. She was too kind. "I went to a…_friend's _for breakfast. I hope that's alright?"

"Oh! Of course," she said, waving it away as if I needn't say anymore. "Were you headed to the first meeting?"

I blushed then, looking at her cheery, trusting face. "Yes…of course."

"Oh, good." She didn't pick up on the fact that I was blatantly lying, but I didn't expect her to. She was too innocent. "The Bulgarian delegates are speaking today and I can never get their intentions right. It gives me the biggest headache."

I snorted, completely losing myself and all propriety as I had been doing all too often with her as of late.

"What?" she questioned.

"Fifty percent sarcasm, ten percent snark, and the rest is just drivel with these Bulgarian politicians. Father used to say-" I stopped immediately, choking on my words, my heart drumming an unsteady beat in my chest.

How could I speak of that man in front of _her_? Was I so lost and sleep deprived that I had lost my wits? But it's obvious to you as it was obvious to me, even then, that that wasn't the case. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I knew it in the depths of my soul. Granger was the key to unmaking me and spreading out who I really am inside.

She seemed to take my faux pas in stride, though, because she was Hermione freaking Granger. "You must sit next to me then. Point out all of this useless drivel just in case I miss it."

Her forgiving smile was so brilliant that I instantly agreed. I sat next to her right side all afternoon and diligently did as she asked me to do, even though it surprised the rest of the delegation that I was even there. I persevered even though Roger Davies glared daggers at me for taking his seat next to the golden princess. The rest of the members attending the conference didn't comment, but I could see the disapproval in their faces. They were as shocked as I was that Granger was choosing to sit next to a lowly ex Death Eater.

The Look on the Bulgarian Minister's face was all too telling.

**A/N: How dramatic right? And rather long for what I had planned the chapter lengths for this story would be. Please don't forget to review, if you can! **

**Until next week, here's a snippet of the next chapter: **

"Seriously Malfoy," she said. "I'm not dating anyone and I'm not sleeping with anyone in my room. That would be wholly unprofessional."

"Right…"

"Alright then," she said, rolling her eyes at my disbelief. She slammed the door of her room in my face, leaving me standing rather awkwardly in the hallway.

**Response to unsigned reviews: **

**Guest: **I understand how you feel, but bear with me. Things told from one person's perspective (especially someone like Draco Malfoy) are always skewed. As the story progresses, his perspective will slowly become a lot less skewed. Thank you for reviewing!

**HG4eva: **I definitely agree with you. Ignorance is entirely bliss. I also agree with you about how Hermione looks right now, but as I said to another reviewer, this is all very one sided and she's not as ignorant as she might look to you all right now. Thank you for reviewing!


	10. The Build

**A/N: **Another long chapter. I'm kind of on a role here! This chapter is all about getting closer and more comfortable. Things in real life haven't been this way for me. They're kind of stagnating and I feel like I'm trying to break through a barrier. I think this urge may have influenced this chapter a little bit.

Be sure to let me know what you think!

**A special thank you to my reviewers: **Irezei, lita rock LbC, I love music, HarryPGinnyW4eva, and kitcatscratch.

**CHAPTER TEN: THE BUILD**

"That man, over there," I gestured subtly.

She tried to look up discreetly and utterly failed. "Where?"

"The one whose wig looks like it's been hacked off a manticore's arse," I whispered.

She snickered, drawing attention to us. I shoved her discreetly under the table and thrilled at the feel of her skin against mine. It was entirely innocent, but my heart beat wildly anyway. She smiled at me mischievously. I hadn't had a smile like _that _from her before. I cleared my throat.

"I heard him say that they're going ahead with building barriers around the pureblood encampments yesterday at the dinner lines."

Her smile dimmed marginally and I physically ached at the loss of it. It was absolutely bloody preposterous to feel that way, yet there I was, longing at the sight of her face as if I were an idiotic addict. Which I really wasn't, I assure you. Not at that point, anyway.

"Who _is _that?" she asked after a moment. "I can't seem to make out a name tag."

"You need glasses, Granger," I said with a snicker. She shoved me this time and I wondered when she would snap at me and fire me – send me to an Express train back to England and to Azkaban despite all her good intentions and promises. I stilled a shudder that threatened to pass through me at that simple push of her shoulder against mine. It was innocent and playful, as if he were friends. Instead, I stared at the man in question, tying to read his name. "No, Granger, you're right. His flab his covering his name tag."

And there was that smile again, making me burn under my collar and around the ears.

I wasn't sure exactly how I had found myself here, next to Granger again. Davies had managed to snag the seat to her left and was sneakily shooting me dirty looks over Granger's tiny head – as if his situation was _my _fault and not entirely Granger's whims. I didn't blame him, really. I had been given, for all intents and purposes, his seat. If that wasn't bad enough… I could tell that he fancied her. I'd figured it out last night at dinner when she'd ditched him to come sit with my lonesome self, probably out of pity.

/

"_Mind if I sit here?" she asked, as was becoming her custom greeting to me as of late whenever food was involved. _

_I couldn't say no, obviously, especially considering her hopeful smile. Though, I should've. I spied Davies glaring at us behind her back and the gigantic stack of papers that she set down next to me with a dramatic thud. _

"_Sure, Granger. Go ahead," I said with a sigh._

"_You did rather well today, Malfoy," she said, probably purposely ignoring the defeat in my voice. I gave up any thoughts of escape, choosing instead to stare at her. "I don't think any of us would've noticed those loop holes they were proposing in their legislation until it would've been too late to do anything about it." _

_I flushed with embarrassment and a little bit of pleasure. What? Don't judge me. You would blush too if someone like Hermione freaking Granger praised you so freely and highly. _

"_Thanks, I guess," I muttered. She smiled so widely at me accepting her praise that I had to look away from the sight. It was too forceful. "What's all this?" _

"_Oh!" she said, as if she was glad that I'd even bothered to ask – like she wouldn't have told me what it was anyway. The woman couldn't keep anything to herself if she tried. "This is all of my research. Would you like to see_ _it? I've only spent the last six months compiling it. It's got all to do with our strategy for the conference tomorrow." _

_I stared at her for a second, her perfectly even face, and went completely blank. I couldn't have stopped what came out of my mouth then, even if I had tried incredibly hard. But I found that I didn't want to. I just wanted to spew my mind to this incredibly presumptuous witch. _

"_Honestly? No, Granger." _

_Her mouth fell open in surprise as I am sure the shock that I'd openly refused her was mirrored plainly on my face. I had broken my one rule of survival just at the sight of her _face_. Her presence had made me throw away everything I had worked for so desperately these past few years. I waited in that moment for her to walk away, for her to be offended at my refusal, for something dramatic to happen. Or maybe I fully expected her to just slap me across the face like she should have. _

_But none of that happened. _

_She cocked her head and stared at me curiously, as if analyzing my reaction – as if putting together everything she knew about me in our entire history together to figure out something monumentally important. As if I were really worthy of such deep consideration. _

"_Are you afraid of me, Malfoy?" she asked, an amused edge to her voice – like she really couldn't fathom such a thing. _

"_Yes," I said plainly, without hesitation. _

_That threw her off, as if she wasn't expecting such an honest answer. _

"_Well… _why_?" she asked, perplexed. _

_I raised a brow. "Why? You have a fully functional wand and I don't. You're a Ministry official that can send me to Azkaban within a blink of an eye. I'm an ex-Death Eater. I've got no power here. I'm at your mercy, Granger, and you're asking why I'm afraid of you?" _

_She blushed, appropriately embarrassed when the truth of the world was laid out for her just then. She considered me before her and it was all I could do not to meet that stare. But even my quick glances revealed the pretty stain of pink on her cheeks. I refused to feel afraid, even though all that I had said was true. She needed a big dose of reality in her overly idealistic life. Risking prison was something I was willing to do if Granger just _**got it**_. _

_After a moment, she sighed. "You know, Malfoy, I get that we had a tough past and that I never really liked you when we were children, but I'd never send you to _Azkaban_. I wouldn't do that to anyone! You don't deserve that… The war, it wasn't your fault. None of it was. You had to do what you did to survive and I'm not going to _punish_ you for it." _

_I sighed. Poor idealistic Granger. Though she was being extremely honest and even though I believed her a hundred percent – Granger probably wasn't going to send me to Azkaban – she still didn't get it and I couldn't make her. It wasn't the time or place for such things. _

"_There's no guarantee, Granger," I persisted, just because it looked as if she needed a response from me. And I was nothing if not accommodating. I had to be, especially to her of all people. _

_She looked at me then, intensely, biting her lower lip in concentration. It shocked me that I recognized this expression, remembered it from seven years of being around her in Hogwarts and beyond. It was the same expression she'd sported in the library when trying to decipher a particularly difficult rune. It was the same expression she'd sported in class, before shooting up her little hand to answer question after question. It was the same expression she'd worn before she'd pretended to burst into tears in front of Umbridge in her office. _

"_I can give you the guarantee, Malfoy," she said after a while, slowly. "_If_ you stop acting like a meek little mouse and remind me of the prick you were back in school." _

_I just stared at her, maybe a little blankly. She shifted through her ridiculous stack of research and found a spare bit of parchment and a quill. She scribbled upon it for a moment before handing it to me with a flourish. Looking upon it, I wasn't the least bit surprised at how neat and tiny her writing was – just like her. _

I, Hermione Granger, hereby declare that I shall not wrongly accuse Draco Malfoy of any crime. Furthermore, I assert that I shall not recommend Draco Malfoy be sentenced to Azkaban without a free and fair trial.

Signed,

Hermione Jean Granger

_My breath had left my body and there was an obvious tremor in my hands. She must have seen the desperate gratitude in my expression for she patted my shoulder and gripped it when I did not loosen my posture. A good few minutes passed this way before I gasped, breaking the silence. _

"_Wait Granger," I said seriously. _

"_What?" she asked, wide eyed. _

"_Did you just call me a _mouse_?"_

_And then she laughed her pretty laugh. _

/

Just like that, with that tiny piece of paper, my inconsequential life was transformed into one of utter brilliance. It happened over the space of minutes and developed overnight as I slept in my all too comfortable bed in that really extravagant Bulgarian hotel. What was I to know that accepting Granger's request to come here would mean changing everything in my life so fundamentally that the very thought of going back to that sick, boring tedium was unbearable?

She smiled at me to encourage me. She said it was because no one should be afraid to be who they were, even if it meant that I had to be a prat. She was joking, of course, at least I hoped she was. I don't think she thought I was a prat – not anymore. She just wanted me to be unafraid to speak. It was just what she stood for.

She wanted everyone to be free.

She wanted _me _to be free. Not because she owed me any obligation or cared about me specifically. It was because in her mind, _everyone _deserved to be free. Even though I had grown up to be opposite her in everything imaginable, she wanted me to stand up and accept it proudly rather than stamp it out of me like the Ministries of Magic all over Europe.

It was this encouragement, it was that smile and her assurance in both words and that little bloody piece of paper, that made me believe that she was genuine. She put her money where her mouth is. She really was here to make a difference. That maybe, just maybe, she had just not seen the real brutality in her own country because she had been too busy fixing the brutality elsewhere.

It gave me a little inkling of hope that was beyond just me, beyond caring for myself, beyond anything but _her. _I had this hope that she would change things because she was truly incorruptible. She would always do what was right and not what was "necessary" for the greater good.

I shan't lie. After she bestowed me with that golden ticket, that _pardon _that forgave all my sins and more, I felt dangerously close to tears. I tried my best to banter with her, like she so obviously wanted, but I just couldn't. I felt too choked with the emotions I hadn't bothered feeling in years. It clogged every inch of my soul and made my eyes water every so often.

But she was patient and she endured my long silences. Maybe she thought I was touched in the head. Most likely she knew that I was a work in progress, a project that she was going to have to coax. It was _empathy _and it was coming from the person I'd have least expected it from. I don't remember anything we said to each other after that, it really is just all a blur. All I remember is her patient smile and Roger Davies glaring at the both of us behind her back.

He was angry that this perfect person was giving the likes of me an undeserving second chance. But Granger told me that night that _everyone _deserved a second chance. It was obviously a motto she lived by. She was willingly sitting next to _me _after all.

And I basked in her forgiveness.

It stewed overnight, this blinding faith and the budding hope of change. I felt like something of my past self. It was a slow build. In truth I recognized that it had been building since the first time I'd seen her back in Britain. She was a force of change and I couldn't help but change with her. In the space of a few hours, I was a man again and I reveled in it.

The upwards climb only grew each time she didn't flinch away from me, with every look she gave me that _wasn't _filled with disgust or revulsion. I took strength and encouragement from all of it, from the slender grace of her shoulders that still managed to hold themselves up proud and straight, and the perfect curve of her mouth that she shone at me whenever she noticed I just _needed it. _

You don't understand. You _can't _understand. I can't possibly explain to you what it was like, how my skin burned every time she pulled me up from the abyss that me and my kind had fallen into. She was everything to me from that moment on and she didn't even know it, she was _that _oblivious. She couldn't have known and you just won't understand.

She took the broken pieces of my psyche and put them all back together with pieces of spell-o-tape and a few _reparos_.

How can you understand what it's like to be unmade and remade again? How can you?

I grew with her. When she smiled at me at breakfast the next day, I smiled back even wider. It startled her, my genuine acceptance of her – she obviously still remembered who I was and what I'd done, so me taking that second chance so openly was surprising to her. You couldn't understand, but at that point neither could she. I wasn't her friend. I was just someone she was trying to help. And she had never really expected me to take it.

She helped everyone she ever met, you see. You know this. Everyone knows this.

It meant more to me than even I could fathom. When I touched her shoulder at the breakfast lines and she _didn't _shy away, as if I wasn't a repulsive miscreant, I shuddered within and wanted to never move my hand away from her ever again. It was disgustingly obsessive. It wasn't as if I loved her or anything. She was just… the dream I always wanted but never knew I even had.

And she seemed emboldened too, by my responses to her attempts to _fix _me. She made jokes at her own expense and some at mine too. She encouraged me to speak, even though it was my place in life to be a silent servant. She asked for my opinion. You don't understand, she asked for _my fucking opinion. _She made me sit next to her and expected me to speak as if it actually mattered. As if I actually fucking mattered. Do you hear that? I actually fucking mattered.

You'll have to excuse me. Even now, thinking about the outrageous behavior that probably could've gotten the both of us killed in the environment we were living in, it just gets me carried away. She seemed oblivious about everything she was doing, as if it were just the way we were meant to carry on and I just couldn't care. It was all too new, too fresh, and too different. To hell with all the consequences.

That's not to say that people weren't outraged at what was so obviously going on before their very eyes. They looked down upon me and with confusion at Granger. It was the weirdest thing, the mudblood and the Death Eater. Two polar opposites actually smiling at one another. She, because she was mental, and he because… well, I suppose I was a little bit mental at the attention too.

That second conference that I sat next to her, I remember her laugh. Her laugh directed at _me _because I was funny and amusing and _worthy _of it. Everyone stared at us like we were some kind of alien werewolves, but we carried on as if it were a normal thing anyway.

I can't even remember what it was we were supposed to be discussing that day, only that it had something to do with closing of the Wizarding Quarter to purebloods. Granger took perfect notes as she always did in between consulting with me and the rest of her team. She was a force to be reckoned with, but honestly? Everyone already knew that. It was on the mind of everyone there.

"You know they're just spouting bollocks, right?" I whispered to her after a while.

She gave me a sidelong glance and stared at me as if I were ludicrous. "_Ob-_viously."

It was the best impression of Severus Snape that I'd seen in at least a decade. It made me laugh, something my cough didn't even cover. The speaker stopped just as Granger shoved me, probably to get me to shut the hell up before the lot of us lost our heads. But I could see her wicked grin hidden behind that mask of concentration. She wasn't sorry at all. Everyone was staring at us – _at me – _Expecting an explanation no doubt.

"Uh… excuse me," I managed to say. Granger hadn't expected me to speak. Her hand came and gripped my thigh under the table as a warning. I was out of turn. I knew it, she knew it, the whole bloody hall of people who hated me knew it. But she had built me up to this point of confidence and I couldn't back down now. It was a test. "Sorry. It's just that, um… your proposal has no merit."

There was a collective gasp. Granger managed to stop all of my blood circulation in my right leg in the space of ten seconds. My own team members stared at me in obvious shock. The Bulgarian Minister of Magic glared at me from across the room. Victor Krum stared at me in appreciation from the same table. It all happened so fast.

"_Excuse _me?" the speaker gaped.

This was not how diplomacy was done. _This was not how it was supposed to go. _

"We will be taking questions and comments _after _the presentation, Mr…" the Bulgarian Minister squinted his eyes to find my nametag. "_Malfoy._"

And there the glaring began, bore down upon me like a huge tidal wave of disapproval. Everyone knew who I was but no one had any idea what I was doing there or why I'd dare to speak so out of turn. But Granger was there, too, my newfound beacon of hope, and she had her fingernails lodged into my thigh as if it were the only thing anchoring her and her six months of research to our table. I couldn't back down and I definitely couldn't let her down.

"No, that's fine," I said as agreeably as I could – which was _really _agreeable since I'd had many years of practice doing just that. "It's just that the concept of barriers that exclude the pureblood encampments is a nonsensical proposal."

"_Malfoy!_" I heard Davies hiss. Granger gripped his thigh, too, under the table. I could see it out of the corner of my eye.

That, more than anything, made me continue.

"Don't they occupy most of your service jobs?" I asked innocently, gathering my bearings and remembering Granger's research. I had fucked up my chances at diplomacy but I could still get the majority of the room to see reason.

Granger's grip loosened.

"Aren't most of your service jobs in the main Wizarding Quarter?" I asked, louder this time.

Granger was quicker than anyone else. She knew my game. She began flipping almost violently through her absolutely ridiculous stack of research while everyone was still getting over the fact that someone had messed up the proceedings.

"Yes, in fact," she said clearly and even more loudly than I had. Her voice reached every ear in the room. "Last year December, the Bulgarian Ministry of Employment Services released their annual report that the Wizarding Quarter's service industry was composed of… 78% of dispossessed purebloods, most of which live just outside of the Wizarding Quarter's proper."

I patted her thigh under the table and we both looked towards the Bulgarian delegation's table. The speaker was still standing, staring at us incredulously, like _how dare we? _The Bulgarian Minister's eyes were narrowed to slits. But I didn't let the fear deter me. Granger's nudge to continue was all it took.

"How do you propose all these people get to work, sir?" I asked.

There was a murmur in the room. "The fact is," Granger said, loud and clear, "every society depends on its essential services. If every mail man, if every maid and shop worker were kept out of the barriers of the city, our industry would collapse and you would be jeopardizing the very productivity of Bulgaria itself."

They didn't need to listen to insolent old me. It was Hermione Granger speaking and in the end it was Granger that had planted the seed of doubt. Everyone forgot I even existed, despite the fact that I was sitting right next to her in plain sight. Even Davies ignored me, choosing to stare at her as she spoke of how illogical putting barriers around the pureblood sections of the city would be.

Don't get me wrong, it didn't change anything. But it made maybe a dozen of the hundreds of people doubt what we were here for. That maybe someone like Granger had the right idea.

And that's what she was after, wasn't it? It was always what she had aimed for. Changing hearts and minds. The rest would come after.

The rest, inevitably, always comes after.

/

No one paid attention to me at the end of the meeting. Even the Bulgarian delegate chose to glare daggers at Granger instead of me. To this day I feel guilty for feeling relieved at that fact. Better her than me, right? She could take the heat. I just couldn't. None of _those _people had signed agreements declaring that they wouldn't falsely accuse me of anything. I still had to be careful.

I had had every intention of sneaking out. After all, most of the people had already trickled out, including most of our own team.

As soon as I stood up, Granger put her hand on my arm and stood up with me. Davies, who always seemed to linger around us since last night, zeroed in on that perfect little hand, and narrowed his eyes at it – like it was _my _fault she was choosing to touch me. Like I had any control over anything this girl ever did. But I suppose it was my fault for letting her, for standing there and taking it like a greedy dog.

But I was also afraid that the line I had crossed might have been one she wasn't willing to bear. After all, I _had _taken liberties with the freedom she had only so recently bestowed upon me.

"You've got some balls Malfoy," she said. My eyes nearly bugged out and her saying something so crass. My heart pounded wildly, sure that she was going to kick me off the team. "Come on, grab your bags. I'm going to buy you lunch."

"What?" Davies and I said in unison.

She didn't even seem to hear Davies behind her back. Maybe it was because she was so short compared to the rest of us.

"It was really brave what you did, even if it was bloody _stupid,_" she said with a smile. That perfect bloody smile that calmed my heart rate and made it speed up at the same time. "I think when we speak tomorrow, we're going to have the advantage. And I don't think any of us would have dared question that idiot man's speech if you didn't ah…"

"Muck things up?" I offered hopefully.

She laughed. "Indeed."

Davies turned on his heel and stormed out of the hall where the conferences were taking place. I almost cringed at the sight of him, but didn't because Granger was still staring at me, waiting for me to pull myself together.

"So you're not mad?" I asked tentatively. "I could've… you know, gotten us kicked out of here."

She raised a brow at me. "Granted, it was a very _risky _thing you did to cover up for your inappropriate laughter, but I'm not going to begrudge you an opinion when we've been sitting here for days talking about _rights, _Malfoy."

I blushed. Her eyebrow moved even further up her forehead. I shrugged in response or who knows, perhaps they might have migrated straight off of her face, and an eyebrow-less Granger would just be too weird to stare at. The image in my mind was disturbing enough to make me crack a sheepish smile, which she mistook for acceptance. I wasn't about to put her right.

"Let's go," she said. "We might as well make the most of the afternoon since Roger's going to insist on being mad for not being invited."

So she _had _heard him after all.

/

It was an unusually warm day for Bulgaria as we walked along the posh streets of the Wizarding Quarter. Or perhaps it wasn't unusual at all. It was July and the summer sun was shining its heat down upon us. It made everything look brighter, happier, and more certain. It made everything gleam with beauty. But mostly, it lit up Granger's head like a bright halo.

For the first time in my life, looking at her so bright and carefree, I thought she was beautiful. Truly beautiful.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked her. I hadn't meant to, it slipped out of my mouth as if I possessed no filter whatsoever. "I mean…"

"Why am I not scowling at you?" she asked with a smile. "Would you prefer if I did?"

She tried the face on, but it really just looked more adorable than anything. We both laughed and it was surreal. She must have sensed that this was the case, for she didn't say anything more, just continued walking side by side with me as if this were _natural. _But perhaps for her it was. The silence burned me more than her smiles and there was nothing pleasant about it. I had to know. Beyond everything, this she had to answer for. I could endure everything besides not knowing this.

"But really-"

"Aren't you tired, Draco?" she asked me without even looking my way. My name on her lips was a pleasant curse. Immediately I wanted her to say it again. "I grew up despising you because you were a right sodding prick. You hated me for a multitude of reasons, I imagine. But I didn't fight a war to hold prejudices. You and I, we didn't watch people die just so we could continue these petty hatreds. Do you hate me?"

"What?" I asked startled. "No, of course not, I-"

"That's good," she said, cutting me off. "I don't hate you either. And I promise I won't until you give me a really good reason to."

What was I supposed to say to that? That's good? Great? Sorry for asking? But it wasn't enough for me. I needed to know more. I needed to hear what happened in her mind on a day to day basis, beyond her perfect morals and ideals. Everyone knew what those were, she'd broadcasted them for years. I didn't just want to be one of her good deeds. I wanted…

I wanted to be something more. And I think she knew that.

"Look, Draco…" she began slowly. We had stopped in front of some restaurant or another. "When you saved me that day in the street and ripped up my card, I was curious about you."

She paused, staring at me sheepishly. I reflexively raised a brow. "And…?"

"And so I asked around about you," she blurted out. As if realizing how incriminating such an admission sounded, she raised her hands in defense. "Not like that! I swear, I was just curious. I may have read your Ministry file… and I may have spoken to Neville and Luna's secretaries…"

"I know you spoke to Mr. Greengrass," I said with a sigh. "He threatened to fire me because of you."

She blushed brightly which made me want to laugh. "I know. It's partly why I offered you the job."

"Oh," I said.

"But then you just got weirder and weirder," she said to me in a rush. "You kept doing these strange things. And I couldn't fathom why. I began to think more and more of you and why you are the way you are now. You certainly aren't like… well… how you used to be. So I suppose I may have forced my company upon you more than necessary."

She blushed even brighter at the admission. I smiled awkwardly. "Thanks…I guess."

"Merlin, I sound like a rambling idiot," she whined, pressing her palm against her forehead.

"Only just a little," I said with a real smile. She smacked my arm rather hard before turning around and walking into the shop we'd been standing out of. "Granger, wait! If you really wanted to stalk me, all you had to do was ask!"

She may have elbowed me in the gut and I _may _have teared up a little at the force of it – but I swear to you, I never let her have the satisfaction of knowing.

/

It took us twice the time to get back to our lodgings than it had taken to wander off. It may have been because we'd eaten like kings and had consumed a gluttonous amount, or perhaps I dragged my feet because I didn't want to be alone again after being in her company constantly. Either way, she seemed to be alright with the fact.

When we _did _reach the stairs, her face fell.

"What's wrong?" I asked her, wondering if the world might not be ending and she'd just forgotten to tell everyone about it.

"We have to climb these _stairs_, Malfoy," she said in a hushed whisper. I didn't know whether to burst out into laughter or be miffed that she'd reverted to using my surname again. "I'm so full!"

I did laugh then, poking her. "Would you like me to carry you, then?"

"Imagine what these poor innocent bystanders would say," she said with a snicker. I lifted my arms, in jest of course, but she darted ahead of me, afraid nonetheless.

I didn't chase her. I wasn't that disjointed with my sense of self preservation. If someone caught me chasing after the golden girl of all time, I had no doubt I'd be beaten to a pulp in the streets and dragged to the lowest slum they had in Bulgaria to be disposed of. Anyway, that's what I imagined a just punishment would be. That's how they did it in muggle picture stories, didn't they?

Granger spoke an awful lot about muggle picture stories.

She was standing next to my door, clearly waiting for me. "You're a slug, Malfoy. I even ate _more _than you."

I shrugged, not knowing how to deal with her playful mood. "Thanks for lunch, Granger."

"You're welcome," she smiled, opening the door next to mine.

"Wait!" I said, startling her. She stared at me expectantly. "Uh… your room is next to mine?"

"Yes…" she said slowly. Trust me, I was aware of exactly how stupid I sounded. I could hear it with my own ears but I just couldn't stop myself. "Why? Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no," I said quickly, my ears burning hot. "I just thought you'd be staying in Krum's room."

"Why on earth would I be staying in Krum's room?" she asked me incredulously. "Hold on, why would Krum stay here? He's got his own manor up in the country side, doesn't he?"

"Yeah I guess," I mumbled, feeling the heat spread into my cheeks. "I just thought…"

"You just thought that I'm dating Krum," she finished, staring at me hard. I may have shaken my head or nodded or shrugged. I think I tried to do all of that at the same time and passed it off as a seizure. "Well I'm not. I wouldn't… wait, you don't believe me."

It wasn't a question so it wasn't like I thought she was expecting an answer. But she stared daggers at me for doubting her (not sure why she was so put off by my assumption anyway) and I had to question myself. _Did _I not believe her? And if so, why? I suppose I felt that a woman like her would naturally want to be with… well, whatever Krum was. He was rather famous wasn't he? I'm sure she would've gotten over the fact that he couldn't pronounce her name. At least, she would've gotten over it eventually.

"Seriously Malfoy," she said. "I'm not dating anyone and I'm not sleeping with anyone in my room. That would be wholly unprofessional."

"Right…"

"Alright then," she said, rolling her eyes at my disbelief. She slammed the door of her room in my face, leaving me standing rather awkwardly in the hallway.

I shrugged, guessing I'd finally crossed a line with her after _all _that. Not knowing what to do, I went into my own room, secretly pleased with the idea that she was in fact Krum free. Even though I still had my doubts about the being free of men entirely – for there was still at the very least Davies to consider – at the very least I wouldn't have to deal with the shock of her and Krum doing inappropriate things in public.

So lost in such thinking, I almost jumped when there was a sharp knock on the random door in my room that had opened up to nothing. When I wrenched it open, I saw Granger standing there, holding open what was obviously a door on her side of the wall. It wasn't a door that led to nowhere. It was a door that connected to me _Granger's room. _

I gulped.

"See?" she said, stepping back. "No one but me in here."

"Um…" I said, nodding. "Sure, yes."

She rolled her eyes again. "I'm going to leave this unlocked, just in case you want to check for yourself at night that I really _am _alone and safe from random men."

I laughed and she smiled, making to shut her door. I did the same before she shouted for me to wait.

"Why _did _you rip up my card that day?" she asked, curiosity burning in her eyes.

I sighed, staring at her. I considered making something up, but I realized that she only had ever wanted the complete and utter truth from me.

"I knew you'd be trouble from the moment I set my eyes on you," I said. She frowned as if considering herself trouble was counterintuitive. For me, it wasn't. I knew it was the whole undistorted truth. "And I was right, too, what with you _stalking _me."

She did laugh then and it was worth it. Her goodnight was sweet and her smile was even sweeter. When I shut the door and got into bed without bothering to even undress, I smiled widely, wondering how I had gotten myself into this brilliant mess and how long such a thing could possibly last.

I slept like a baby that night.

**A/N: I really hoped you enjoyed. Please don't forget to drop a line! I always enjoy hearing from all of you. **

**Here's a snippet from next week's chapter: **

Granger had her back to me. She was bent over her opened suitcase, rummaging for something to wear. She had obviously just come out of the shower because her hair was damp and dripping down her back and because she was naked from the waist up.

That is to say, she was standing there with her back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of black knickers.

**See you soon! **


	11. The Problem with Politics

**A/N: **I am updating early because I can! The next three and a half chapters were supposed to be two, but they got a little bit TOO long and I had to do some creative splitting. I do hope you guys are enjoying. Let me know, as always, what you think. I'd really appreciate feedback!

On another note, I changed the summary. Did any of you guys notice? What do you think? Was the old one better?

A special thank you to my lovely reviewers: audreylou, HarryPGinnyW4eva, Dancing-Souls, SnowCharms, I love Music, kitcatscratch, and dutch potterfan.

**Rated T for language and adult situations **

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE PROBLEM WITH POLITICS **

_**JULY 2001**_

It was one of the oddest moments of my life, sitting there as Granger's right hand. I never thought I'd ever want to be a Gryffindor's right hand. Earlier in my life, as a spoilt child, I would've sneered at the thought of being second to a Gryffindor and a dirty blooded _woman _to boot. After the war, in my reduced status, if the idea had been presented to me I would've run in fear at the idea of being in such a volatile position.

Yet, there I was, right next to a glittering star and flanked by Roger Davies, who I could tell really wanted to poison me.

And I shone with them.

I found out at the next few meetings why Granger had come to me at such short notice with this job. Sure, she probably really was repaying me in particular for saving her life and I didn't know anyone in my life that was as curious as Granger. Surely she probably had also felt bad that I was being paid as much as a house elf these days for some reason. But that all made very little difference to her decision – it had probably only further justified it.

No, Granger would never have brought me here, to something she had labored over on for six months in preparation, without even any preparation or putting me through any kind of training. There hadn't even been any directions.

"I find it odd that the Ministry's position is to target such a distinct minority group. The rebels who oppose your regime cannot possibly all be purebloods, after all," Granger was saying in response to some question or another.

"It is the group at the forefront, they hold the banners!" someone from the French delegation contradicted.

"In the 1930's, Cantankerus Nott declared there were only truly twenty-eight families that were in fact _pure _–pardon the terminology," I said, much to the shock of my entire delegation. It seemed the only person that continually wanted me to speak was Granger. "He published his findings in Pure-blood directory."

"And these numbers have declined in the oncoming decades," Granger smiled. "In your address to the Bulgarian public, Minister, did you not declare there were hundreds of rebels threatening to create chaos?"

The Bulgarian minister grumbled something unpleasant under his breath.

No, I hadn't needed any direction once my purpose was truly made clear to me. I was there because, while Granger was _the _number one muggleborn champion, so too was I the best example of a pureblood that anyone had ever seen. She knew this. Everyone who had ever heard of the now dirty Malfoy name knew it. I was there to represent my people.

I was here because saying facts about pureblood ideology and the way of life for my kind just didn't sound the same out of the mouth of someone like Granger. It didn't sound valid coming out of the mouth of anyone but us lowly convicted souls that had signed away our futures for this very thing.

Granger had brought _me _here because I didn't need any sort of training or research to know the traditions and words that flowed through the nerves of my mind, just pulsing and waiting to be called upon. She knew like everyone else had once known. The Malfoys were the purest and the best trained in the traditional way.

"Even without the blatant human rights violations, it's clear that subjugating the pureblood minority is creating a vast destruction of magical history, culture, and knowledge," Granger said. "And not to mention, a great economic loss."

"Prior to 1998, pureblood income generation exceeded 60% of total international magical revenue," I chimed in.

"Indeed," she said, sparing me a glance. Granger seemed surprised that I knew this information. "After the fall of Voldemort and the stripping of pureblood rights, magical Europe fell into a recession. Three years later we are no closer to ending this depression and restoring ourselves to our former glory. Hostilities are rising everywhere and things are getting worse – Bulgaria not excluded."

"A ceasefire between the Ministry and rebel groups is a necessary first step," Davies chimed in.

When I spoke in the question period, (With Granger's acceptance this time and with ample forewarning given) I commanded more attention than I had ever done in the past, even as a boy with the entire world at his beck and call. I allowed myself to feel exhilarated, urged on by Granger's brilliant smiles (and even Davies' glares), even though I was taking pride in something that was horribly disfiguring to my reputation and prospects for a free life.

But I couldn't help it. Her smiles gave me self worth. She lifted me to a place I'd never been to, just with that accepting stare, the appreciation of my sick knowledge.

"And what guarantee do we have that these _rebels _shall not murder us in our beds should we call an end to these hostilities?" said the Bulgarian Minister.

I could see Granger clench her fists. Everyone knew what she wanted to say but couldn't: what guarantee do we have that _you _monsters won't engage in mass genocide once the rebels lay down their wands?

No one said anything for a short minute, the Minister's grin widening with each silent passing second. Every other delegation looked upon our table (at Granger in particular) for they all knew we were the champions of the pureblood cause. But Granger was seething and she needed a minute. Davies seemed thrown off that Granger hadn't answered this obvious threat yet. The American was staring at our leader with open mouthed apprehension.

And I could feel Granger's hard work slipping right through her pretty little tightly clenched fingers. I had to do something, anything, to ensure that she wouldn't go home empty handed.

"Honorem obstricti sumus verbo," I said.

"Puritatem sanguis insignis," Victor Krum responded, saluting to me.

All heads slowly turned between Krum and I. I only had eyes for Granger.

"It is our custom," I began slowly, looking her right in the eye, "to mark our agreements with an oath of good faith. We have always bound our peace with our entire beings, with our magic. So it was in the time of Merlin and so it will be now. Honorem obstricti sumus verbo. We are honour bound by our words."

I looked towards Krum and he stood up from his seat, despite the fact that his own Minister of Magic was glaring at him.

"Marked by the purity of our blood," Krum said again before repeating the Latin. "Puritatem sanguis insignis."

"Puritatem sanguis insignis," I repeated, saluting him back.

There was a soft flash of golden light at my words, causing a gasp to filter throughout the room. Granger didn't seem startled though. All she did was look upon me and mouth _thank you. _I nodded in return because I knew that what I had done (and what Krum had helped with) was more than Granger could handle – she was that kind of person after all, filled with emotion. I didn't even bother ignoring the rush of happiness I felt.

For the rest of the meeting, all I could think of was Granger's soft eyes and the fact that Victor Krum wasn't as bad a fellow as I'd coined him to be.

/

That day I didn't wait for Granger after the meeting had finished up. The raw intensity of her stare was just too much for me. I didn't want to hear her put voice to her obvious gratitude – it wasn't possible she could have gratitude for _me. _I didn't want to see her shiny eyes. I didn't want to see Victor Krum staring at me approvingly and I didn't want to acknowledge the Bulgarian Minister's glare.

I just wanted to get out of there as quickly and quietly as possible.

So, much to the surprise of my entire delegation, I was the first one out of my seat and out the door before anyone had the chance to even stop me.

My feet carried me towards the exit of the lavish hotel. I suspect this was because I was still very much a coward in my heart. Nevertheless, when I was out in the open, the summer sun and fresh air calmed my unexplainable nerves. Even the stare that Granger had given me lost its power when I could breathe properly again. For a second, it didn't even matter that I was standing amongst the luxurious nobles.

I was free and if I chose, I could run away and leave it all behind.

"Draco!" someone called out to me.

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the sun, shining out over the crowded square before me. But, eventually, I spotted Victor Jr. standing next to an opulent fountain, trying his best to wave at me without being noticed. He wasn't doing such a good job of it, unfortunately for him. He was getting many disapproving stares, people muttering behind their hands.

As in, what was this lowly urchin doing in a place that is so clearly beyond him? What on earth is he thinking doing something so daring? Is he one of those filthy rebels? Oh my, is he going to pull his wand out and massacre us all here and now? Someone should call the Aurors. No! Someone should call a squadron of hit wizards!

I knew the glares intimately. I knew exactly how he must've felt under all of that scrutiny.

I walked towards him as calmly and discreetly as possible, as if it were a common occurrence to associate oneself with someone everyone thought was a terrorist. He didn't bother greeting me or even waiting for me. Before I had even crossed half the distance towards him, he had already turned around and begun walking away out of the precarious, dangerous territory.

I didn't know what else to do except to follow. There was no way I was ready to go back to the hotel and face everyone. I wasn't ready to see the look on Granger's face.

When I finally did catch up to Victor Jr., we were already in a shabbier looking area. No one really paid us any mind after we had gotten into the shabbier areas in town, so I felt safe enough to clap him on the shoulder and say a polite hello. After all, he was one of the only people I knew in this country that wasn't going to try to rob me, kill me, or glare at me because I was an ex-Death Eater.

"What were you doing there?" I eventually asked him after the usual pleasantries were out of the way.

"Father said I shouldn't seek you out, but…" he gave me a sidelong glance. "I had to see you. I had to hear how things were going. I had to see if the rumors are true."

I paused there, right in the street. "What rumors?"

Victor Jr. looked about him, probably trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably, and looked at me a little hopelessly when we figured this was no place to be discussing _rumors. _Though I suppose nowhere was safe for people like us to do such things, especially him as it was his country and he was the hunted one here. Eventually, he dragged me to a dark, dirty alleyway, eerily reminiscent of the first time I'd met him.

"Is it true?" he asked me in a harsh whisper, his face a little too close for comfort. I could practically taste his desperation. "Is it true?"

"Is _what _true?" I asked him seriously.

"They say you and Hermione Granger and your whole team will convince the Minister to lift the measures against us," he said, almost reverently. I wondered if he was going to grovel at my feet and try to offer me his life. "They say you stood up for us. They say if you succeed they won't build the barriers around our homes to keep us out of the Wizarding Quarter. They say you've come to change things because you're one of our own…"

I gulped. Tears sprang to my eyes suddenly.

"I promised you I would try," I told him, even though all of my work had nothing to do with any promises I'd made to him. "We're all trying. Granger is trying the hardest. She thinks we have a chance."

Victor Jr. nodded seriously, leaning even closer to me. I tried my best not to shrink away from his proximity. "My father has heard whispers…"

"What?" I pushed when he didn't offer anything further.

"If you don't succeed and they start building that barrier, we'll all starve, Draco. They'll _hunt _us! We'll be finished!" The glint in his eye was maddening. There was a twitch in his forehead. I thought he might burst in panic right before me.

"Don't talk like that!" I snapped. In that second, he'd sounded so much like the Theo Nott I'd left behind. It made me soften my tone. "What did your father hear?"

"He heard…" Victor Jr. paused staring at me in all seriousness. I wondered what had happened to him and his family since the last time I'd seen him. I wondered what had happened to him to make him this unreasonable, desperate person. "He heard from one of the fathers of… of the rebels that if that happens, they're going to attack and kill everyone. No more rumors this time. They're recruiting people. They're training them in the forbidden square. They're _really _amassing, Draco. There's going to be a second uprising in Bulgaria and soon."

I gulped again, this time for an entirely different reason.

/

Victor Jr. had been optimistic for the entire walk back to the hotel, spewing the many virtues of Hermione Granger and the British at me. I didn't pay too much attention. For one, no one had to tell me what a decent person Granger was- that much I already knew. For another, I wasn't sure exactly what, if anything, Granger could do about any of this.

If my father had taught me anything useful about politics, it was this: Power only moved for money or by threats. Conferences and the like were nice and all, but they didn't affect the decisions of the powerful. Not by much. Even if Granger convinced everyone of the sins of the Bulgarian Minister by the end of next week, in the end the Bulgarian Minister and all of his staff were going to do whatever the hell they wanted to.

Which meant that if Granger couldn't threaten the Minister to stop, his evil little minions were going to start building these barricades around the pureblood part of the city and cut them all off from the resources they so obviously desperately needed to live. And if Victor Jr. was right… then the rebels were going to fight to prevent this to the death. And they were going to take as many people with them as possible.

Beyond all of this, the conferences were going to be over next week. Today was already Friday. We had barely any time before Bulgaria was going to be threatened with civil war! And we were standing right at the brink of it.

I didn't know what to do.

What _was _I supposed to do, really? I was nobody back home and even if Granger had made me and approved of all this speaking out, I was no one here, too. I didn't have any influence here or there. And let's be honest. I didn't have anything to do with all this. I'd been part of one civil war already and it really hadn't gone well for me. I didn't really know these people.

At once, I felt infuriated with Victor Jr. and his entire family for telling me their problems. I hated Granger for bringing me to this fucked up godforsaken place. What could I possibly do about it? Any of it? And what if I didn't want to do anything at all?

Of course, my traitorous eyes were drawn to the door that I now knew led to Granger's room. Would she be disappointed if I just carried on about my life as if nothing were different? If I just finished my responsibilities here, went back home with my fat paycheque and never thought about any of this ever again – never see Granger's face or that intriguing smile.

And I could almost see that smile melt right off her perfect little face when she discovered that my cowardice prevented her from saving innocent lives. I want to say that what motivated me to do something about all of this mess is because it was _the right thing to do _but that would be lying and I really don't see the point in lying to you. I never wanted Hermione Granger to be disappointed in me ever again.

This resolve was flowing strongly in my veins. I wanted nothing more than to act on this impulse – this uncharacteristic impulse to do something good, something that mattered – that I didn't even think about propriety. I didn't even knock on the door that connected my room to Granger's. I just opened it in the haste to get this explosive information to her.

And when I saw what I had done, the line I had crossed, the resolve froze straight in my veins and shattered them all to a million pieces.

Granger had her back to me. She was bent over her opened suitcase, rummaging for something to wear. She had obviously just come out of the shower because her hair was damp and dripping down her back and because she was naked from the waist up.

That is to say, she was standing there with her back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of black knickers.

My heart began to pound for an entirely different reason than fear- a reason I hadn't felt for anyone in a reasonably long time. For she was perfect in every which way and I couldn't take my eyes off her in that moment. Her skin was smooth and she really was small and toned, just like I'd guessed when she'd actually had all of her clothes on. The length of her legs, the curve of her hips, the perfect shape of her arse covered by that little scrap of cloth… It made my mouth go dry.

I was almost irritated at the length of her long wet hair, almost as much as I was fascinated by it. It was hiding the rest of her and I would've preferred to see. Then again, I was also tempted to run my fingers through that ridiculously poufy mane. I wanted to touch her and –

The realization made me jump. Wanting more than just a casual conversation and the smiles that she gave so freely to everyone made me jump. In my haste to get away from this horrific and threatening situation, I idiotically slammed the door behind me like an idiot.

Now she would know forever more that Draco Malfoy was a perverted peeping bastard.

"Draco?" she called out. She didn't seem startled. Or, at least, she didn't seem like she was getting ready to hex me. "Was that you?"

"I didn't see anything, I sear," I said quickly, almost slapping myself at how panicked and idiotic I sounded. "I'm sorry. I should've knocked. Er… I'll just ah… lock this door, then."

It was the oddest thing, but she laughed and waved away my apology like it was nothing, like I hadn't just seen her nearly naked and that such things actually happened all the time. It was normal! Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Eventually she encouraged me to open the door that I was leaning against. In due time I listened to her because I just couldn't refuse anything she asked of me. When I laid my eyes upon her, I was relieved to find she was completely dressed, her hair up in a fluffy white towel.

My cheeks, on the other hand, hadn't regained their normal colouring.

"I'm really sorry," I mumbled.

"It's really okay, Draco," she insisted with a smile. "Aren't you going to get ready for the ball?"

For a second my mind went blank and I just stared at her as if I had no idea what she was on about. And really, I didn't.

"What ball?" I asked.

And then it dawned on me that it was _Friday _and that Granger had expressly told everyone every day this entire week that there was going to be a huge boring party on Friday (_today) _and that we all must be on our best behavior.

"Oh, right. I'm not going," I said with a shake of my head, waving the absurdity of the suggestion away. It was almost like waving away the image of her near naked body off the forefront of my mind. "You have fun, though."

She frowned. "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

"No," I shook my head. "Not my kind of scene."

She raised a brow, looking at me speculatively. "You have to go, though. Everyone's going to be there. We might even gain some important ground with the other delegations."

"Well, in _that _case," I said with a smile, one she returned, "No, I'm still not going."

"Well, why not?" she asked perplexed.

"Nothing to wear," I said quite seriously.

"Is that all?" she asked with her pretty laugh. I couldn't help but laugh back. Everything about her was contagious. "Don't worry. I'm reasonably sure I'm talented enough to transfigure something for you. Come along."

And then she was fully in my room, touching all my unworthy things and driving all the sense right out of me. I _should _have been warning her, trying to tell her that all we were working for was for naught, but all I could think of was the fact that Hermione Granger had taken a seat on _my _bed and later, I was going to have the privilege of sleeping in it.

**A/N: A little too desperate? The next chapter is going to blow it all to another level. I wasn't sure about the start of this chapter though, so I would appreciate it if you guys could let me know what you thought. Please review! **

**In the meanwhile, here's a spoiler: **

But then, she slowly spread her hands over my chest, smoothing the wrinkles out of the t-shirt and travelling down my sides to my hips. If her wand hadn't been in her hand and the words of a spell not flowing past her lips, I would've mistaken the touch for something a hell of a lot more intimate.

Even so, I could've sworn that she was _smelling _me.

**HAVE A GREAT WEEK!**


	12. Glittering Stars

**A/N: **I'm going away on holiday tomorrow and I'm not sure about the internet access I'll have. So I'm posting this now and hoping you guys have had a wonderful week. Let me know what you think of this! I'll get back to you before the next chapter is posted on the following Monday. Enjoy!

A special thank you to my reviewers: dutch potterfan, cristinahhh, Dancing-Souls, HarryPGinnyW4eva, I love music, bella Malfoy Cullen, and Wasted.

**Rated T for language and themes of a sexual nature.**

**CHAPTER TWELVE: GLITTERING STARS**

It was almost a blessing that amidst all the excitement of the week –coming randomly to Bulgaria, speaking out in public, the shocking news of a potential rebellion, and almost seeing Granger naked – I had pretty much forgotten about this horrible, unnecessary ball.

I hadn't planned to go, honestly. I hadn't realized that, of course Granger would have insisted as she had insisted upon all of it. Social gatherings of any kind, especially those of a political nature, were really not my kind of thing. They required dignity and poise and many other things that had deserted me long, long ago.

But when Granger had shoved aside all of my pathetic excuses and feeble attempts at getting out of this horrible evening, I quickly became mortified. Once she began to rummage through my things without feeling the least bit self conscious and/or disgusted that they were the sole possessions of a lowly poor man, I'd needed to take a seat.

That, and because the sight of her long naked legs and all that bare flesh was still fresh in my mind. The desire to touch her hadn't gone away. I had neither the will nor the resolve to put up a fight against anything she wanted of me.

Truthfully, she could've used me right there for anything she pleased and then discarded me as her whims dictated. Not because I had no choice in the matter – no, she had made it abundantly clear that I had every choice in the world when it came to her. I wouldn't deny her because I _wanted _to. I wanted to comply and give her anything and everything she wanted.

As I was sitting in my desk chair, that was the moment I realized I was a goner. She had her claws in me and I had absolutely no intention of ever escaping.

In essence, I was _fucked. _

"Are you listening, Draco?" she called to me from my bed.

"Yeah?" I asked. I decided immediately that I really rather liked the look of her sitting on my bed. It was a singularly delightful picture. She was staring at me curiously. "What?"

"I asked if you knew your size. It makes the transfiguration easier," she repeated for my benefit.

I could tell she was purposely ignoring my slightly obvious behavior and I was grateful for her discretion. I didn't know how I would've explained the thoughts racing through my head just then if she had demanded to know. What would I have said? The sight of you without clothes on is better than you dressed? Can I have another looksee? Will you please never get off of that bed? It was dangerous and ridiculous all at the same time.

"All the labels are ripped out of your clothes," she remarked.

"Secondhand," I muttered with a grunt, abruptly standing up. I didn't want to be reminded how inferior I was to her, not after I knew what a pretty picture she made. "No, Granger. I don't know my size."

She took my mood swings with her unfailing grace. "No matter," she said. "Go put these on, if you will."

She tossed me my ratty old pajamas to don. They were really old work clothes, actually, but weren't fit to be worn in public any longer. I felt her eyes on my back all the way to the loo and her gaze made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. All I could wonder was what she was thinking about. My hands shook as I changed my clothes.

I briefly considered not leaving the bathroom. I could potentially barricade myself in there and she couldn't _really _do anything about it. But no. I couldn't stop myself from opening the door and walking right back to her, as willingly as if I were getting more out of it than I actually was.

"This should do," she said, her brow creasing in concentration. I wanted to smooth it out for her and my fingers itched to do so. "This fits you very well."

In reality, I thought the ratty old shirt was much too tight. I wondered if that was why she'd chosen it. The absurd thought made me want to laugh, especially because of the studious way she was staring at my chest, measuring me up. As if Granger could look at me with something other than curiosity or pity.

But then, she slowly spread her hands over my chest, smoothing the wrinkles out of the t-shirt and travelling down my sides to my hips. If her wand hadn't been in her hand and the words of a spell not flowing past her lips, I would've mistaken the touch for something a hell of a lot more intimate.

Even so, I could've sworn that she was _smelling _me.

"There," she said, transfiguring two pins into buttons and fiddling with the cuffs of my brand new dress shirt. "This shall have to do. I've had to practice this quite a bit over the past few years with having to attend functions all over the world with _zero _notice. Not everyone plans their itinerary as meticulously as the Bulgarians, you know. You're a bit broader than Harry, though not nearly as gangly tall as Ron-"

I inhaled sharply, not at her rambling but because she was no on her knees before me and feeling over my hips and smoothing her hands down my legs. I knew she was just measuring me and feeling her way around for the complex transfiguration she was about to perform but, really, it was just too close for comfort, especially after just having seen her nearly naked. When I made to get away, she clucked, holding her wand between her teeth and holding me in place.

"This won't do. These are _way _too loose," she remarked after she'd gotten her wand out of her mouth. "Stand still would you? I think I might be able to make _something _of these. Maybe shrink them a little? Hmm…"

Either she was entirely absorbed in her spell work or she just chose to ignore my discomfort, but she continued on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. It was obvious from her earlier remarks that this was something she did for her friends, often enough to know their shape and measurements to compare them to me. Somehow, though, the thought of her fixing Potter's clothes didn't sound as provocative as the image of her kneeling before me and fixing mine.

Thinking about how she obliviously made such an image before me made me shiver.

It felt like the longest moment of my life, standing there helplessly before her. But then again, it passed much too quickly for my liking.

I must have stood there in a daze as she fluttered around me, touching me in such innocent (but not so innocent) ways in order to get me prepared for this horrific ball. Once my trousers were transfigured on (and tightened to what she thought was appropriately fitting) she at least didn't get on her knees again.

But she unnerved me in other ways. She transfigured my only sweater into a dinner jacket and smoothed her hands and wand over my shoulders and sides to make sure it fit nicely. Her hands were on my chest and stomach, attaching and fastening buttons as she went. Her hands were around my neck, creating a collar out of a sock and tying a tie she had made out of a length of blue ribbon.

"Do you want a holster for your wand?" she asked eventually, absently.

I scoffed. "No. What am I going to do with it?"

She raised a brow. "I don't know. What if you need it for… something?"

"Like what?" I asked, though by the way she asked it was obvious she meant to _defend myself. _A picture of the Hermione Granger during the war flit through my brain then and I had to smother it lest other memories came forth too. "If someone attacks me, what am I going to do? _Levitate _them? You know my wand has magical restrictions on them."

She frowned.

I didn't want her to feel any pity for me, not when I felt so brilliant dressed as I now was. "Where'd you learn to do all this anyway?

"Mrs. Weasley taught me," she muttered, still clearly occupied with the negative thoughts of my wand. She shook her head, as if trying to focus on me. Maybe it was the way I was looking so hopefully at her that made her concentrate. "Quite handy really when you've got so little to work with."

All that reminded me was how little I had to work with.

"Yeah. Nifty little trick," I said drily. "Lucky for me. Took away my only legitimate excuse for not going to this dreadful thing."

And she laughed like I'd expected her to. "I'm like your fairy godmother. But don't worry, Cinderella. You can stay at the ball well past midnight."

I pretended to understand what that meant while she fixed her enormous hair in the mirror.

/

She was putting her face on when I ventured into her room again. This time I actually knocked and actually waited for her to say it was alright to come in. She was, thankfully, fully dressed. I couldn't tell if the dress was transfigured or not, but it was a pretty blue and fit her to perfection. She smiled at me through the mirror but I couldn't smile back. In all of the excitement earlier, I'd forgotten my resolve to tell her what had transpired earlier on.

"I have to tell you something, Granger," I said.

"Mhm," she mumbled, concentrating hard with what looked to be a pencil that she was poking onto her eye. It was so very odd. "What's that?"

"After the conference today, I saw one of my friends… in town and-" I paused.

She wasn't even looking at me, continuing to poke at her eye with the pencil and moving on to other equally odd things. I didn't _have _to tell her. I could pretend it hadn't even happened. I didn't have to be responsible for ruining her night, especially when she looked like that. But… I supposed I had the obligation to fulfill the promise I'd made to Victor Jr. and his family.

"He said that if we don't stop the Minister from building those barricades and locking out the purebloods, the rebels are going to riot."

She paused, looking at me over her shoulder this time. She didn't seem surprised at the news I'd bombed her with. No, she was calm as ever, with a calculating look in her eye. I almost felt stupid in that moment. Had I made it all bigger in my head than it actually was? If Granger didn't seem concerned – and she _didn't _seem to be – then maybe it wasn't such a big deal after all.

But it _was _a big deal. I knew it was. It was war and war was always ugly and filled with the blood of innocents. I knew Granger cared about such things and it was her job to make sure that they never happened. More than that, it was in her nature to care about atrocities happening. She had championed house elves. She had championed _me. _

"Thank you for telling me, Draco," was all she said, though, going back to meticulously putting on her makeup.

My mouth fell open. "What…"

She turned around. "We had figured as much. It's always nice to have confirmation though, so thank you for getting me that. I trust your source is reliable?"

I nodded my head, still a bit stunned. I hadn't expected it to go this way. "But…"

"But?" she smiled. "Draco, I wasn't put here because I'm an idealist. We planned for resistance on both sides. Anna, the American? She's been negotiating with the rebel leader in secret this whole time. I didn't want it getting out to the other delegations in case it came back to the Minister, but I don't think you'll betray me by letting it out."

And in the way she said it, it sounded like she was asking me a question. _Would you? Are you going to betray me Draco Malfoy? _I thought the answer was obvious. I might have been offended that she was even asking me such a silly thing. _Of course not, Granger. I could never betray you. Not now. _

I didn't have to tell it to her though. I could tell she knew by the way she was staring at me.

/

"We still have the chance to run away," I whispered to her, leaning as close as I dared as we descended the stairs to make our way to the ballroom. "Just say the word and I'll find us a way out of here. No one will be the wiser!"

She looked back at me over her shoulder with a chuckle. "You're so silly, Draco. Who knew?"

"Why do you call me that?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

"Call you what?"

"_Draco," _I said, curious despite it all. It was odd, though, wasn't it? The way she said my name as if we were that familiar with each other. I wanted to say, _girl, you don't know me like that, _but instead I reiterated, "Why do you call me that?"

"It's your name, isn't it?" she said without bothering to look at me this time. She said it like it meant absolutely nothing. Like addressing me by my first name was as natural to her as addressing Davies by his. "Come on. We really don't want to be late."

"No, _you _really don't want to be late," I grumbled.

Her resulting indulging laugh was beautiful and I almost didn't manage to take my eyes off her as we stepped into the glamorous ballroom. How awkward would that have been? Me, staring at Granger like some obsessed fool while a hundred or so important people looked on upon us with sick fascination. Wouldn't that be just peachy? I could see the headlines now: Pureblood corrupts Golden Girl. Death Eater Kidnaps British Diplomat. Malfoy and Granger –

I shook my head forcefully, as if chasing away an enormous fly. I wish such thoughts would never have the opportunity to distract me ever again, but I can't say I've ever been so lucky or self disciplined to make something like that happen. But such is life and I have long since accepted the inevitable bad luck that follows me wherever I happen to be.

Granger fluttered among the well dressed people, much like a butterfly. She did it like she was used to such things, giving genuine smiles and polite compliments. I trailed behind her, much like a lost, obedient dog. No one paid me any mind. I don't think Granger even noticed I was there.

Just like that, I was invisible once again.

And so, I retreated to one corner or another, sitting comfortably at a far off table. I watched as the glittering stars complimented each other on their beauty and undeniable talent. Truthfully, at that point, the stress of it all melted away. I was relieved to not have to be the centre of attention. I didn't have to pretend I was one of them from all the way over here. I didn't have to pretend like I was _adequate. _I was just an onlooker and that was peaceful.

Everyone was all smiles and laughter, but from here I could see the tension in their shoulders, the way they literally had to hold themselves up a certain way. It was obviously a lot of work to _be _somebody, at least somebody important. Everyone was dressed to the nines, donning their very best to represent their respective countries. I felt kind of like a sham in my transfigured robes.

But on second thought, I realized it didn't matter because no one was there to look at me.

The room itself was very grand, I noticed belatedly. But how could it not be? This entire hotel was very grand, after all. It had high archways and pillars after the roman fashion, all airy and imposing. The chandeliers were enormous, set to provide a welcoming gentle glow to the entire room. It bathed the guests in a flattering, warm light. The ceiling was painted as if for the gods, depicting a blue sky and a chorus of angels, singing to the most beautiful depiction of Circe I had ever seen.

I felt as if I should stare at it forever and still that wouldn't be enough. It was certainly better than watching the inevitable politics play out before me. I wondered if I would have to join in on the fray and if so, if I would ever get the opportunity again to indulge in such a simple pleasure as just appreciating artwork.

But there really was no joy in it.

After all, I imagined all of this had been commissioned after the war with all that money the Ministry here had stolen from Victor Jr.'s family and other innocent people like them. And now, all these people were gathered to discuss their fate in all this splendor and finery, while those very innocent people suffered in squalor, fear, and indignity.

It made me sad, of course, but I looked on anyway because I didn't see the sense in denying myself the sight. I was above these Bulgarian Purebloods for the moment, tagging along with _these _people, so why not enjoy myself as much as I could before I was fully one of the unwanted again? Why not? This wasn't going to last forever. Why not make the most of it while it was still here, unrestricted to eyes like mine?

"It is very pretty, is it not?" someone said, off to my side.

Turning my head, I saw Victor Krum standing next to me, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face. My stomach fell. I really didn't want to have to talk to him, but there really wasn't any polite way to get out of it. He stood with a practiced ease, so utterly nonchalant that I thought maybe the emotion that was seeping through me was envy. Or maybe wonder.

He had certainly spent a lot more time practicing walking on the ground and becoming comfortable with the concept since my fourth year.

When I didn't say anything, he stared at me. "You did very well today," he said plainly. "It was… how do you say? Good for morale. I should think tonight many more heads will be favoured towards us."

"Thank you," I said. I'm not sure what overcame me, but I could help but blurt out what came out next. It wasn't my fault, really. He was standing right there engaging in conversation with me. He practically had it coming to him. "Why are you doing all this?"

"Pardon?" he asked with a confused smile.

"You're a quidditch player. They need you, they're not going to rob you blind. Why are you… I saw the Minister and the way he looked at you. Why risk all that you have and participate in this farce anyway?" I had to know the answer because the curiosity was burning a hole in my head. But I also had the good sense to shut up before I could screw things up with this very important man even more than I had already. "If you don't mind me asking…"

"This is my country," he said in that same plain tone, as if that was obvious. "These are my people. I am pureblood, yes, but we are all one. It is the same, you see? We are all Bulgarian. I have given up the quidditch in my protest."

My jaw dropped. "You _gave up _quidditch?"

He nodded, raising a brow, as if this really shouldn't be news to me. The man was obviously crazy. Who in their right mind gives up quidditch willingly, I thought, especially when they were as talented as Krum. Especially when they were as important to the league as Krum. Especially when people like me hadn't felt the free pleasure of flying in years!

"I give it up so that they see I am serious," he said, using his hands to show me exactly how serious he was. "And I will not play until the rights are restored to my people, _all _my people. I see you think I am crazy but what wouldn't you give up for the people you love? For your country?"

I wanted to scoff at first. I didn't give a damn about my _country. _I wasn't about to give up anything more for it, definitely not willingly. But that wasn't the question, was it? What would I give up for the people I love?

It wasn't that hard of a question when I thought about it. What hadn't I given up for my mother? We could've run away like the Greengrasses, yet… My eyes were drawn to Granger for some unfathomable reason. I could be relatively safe back home and yet here I was…

"She is also very pretty," Victor said, clapping me on the shoulder. As if she was something like the artwork on the ceiling that needed to be appreciated. Like we were friends or comrades or whatever they called acquaintances in this godforsaken country.

"What?" I said, both startled and embarrassed at having been caught staring. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Krum winked at me. He actually winked at me. "You continue to confuse her, or so she tells me. She is too kind to ask questions of you, you see. You make her… how do you say…"

I looked towards Granger once again. There was no use pretending, after all.

"Disgusted?" I ventured.

Krum threw his head back (literally) and laughed a hearty laugh. It drew some curious stares our way and I cringed, the embarrassment reddening my face. "It is not yet as bad as that, my friend. Come, we shall address all these well wishers together as one."

And that was how Victor Krum took me under his enormously large wing. I think it was his way of saying thank you for contributing to the cause even in this small and insignificant way. More likely, it didn't sit right with his pureblood manners that he leave a fellow ally by himself in the corner, though I desperately wished that he had.

We went about the room in a dizzying fashion. Everyone wanted to talk to Krum and it was no wonder – he was, after all, Victor Bloody Krum – quidditch player extraordinaire turned politician turned freedom fighter. And they really _were _all well wishers. Everyone wanted to kiss his perfect arse and, when they noticed his arm around me, would all extend their warmest sympathies my way.

It was the oddest way anyone had ever told me to bugger off.

They didn't do it so openly, obviously. They wouldn't with Krum standing there, championing me. It was a lot more subtle an insult than I was used to. It was a look of distaste at my transfigured robes or a sneer at the mention of being pureblooded. It was in the stares I received when they thought I wasn't looking. It was the disgust etched in the way they wiped their hands after they shook mine.

By the time Krum demanded I sit with him during the dinner, I was shaking under the scrutiny. I had had to say yes, of course. Granger was off talking to the French delegation members and I wasn't really in the position to storm off and sequester myself in my room.

My _borrowed _room.

When I think about it now, it was a surreal experience. I was sitting between Krum and another Bulgarian, the Bulgarian Minister himself on the other side of Krum. There were two German men who seemed bored out of their minds and spoke only to each other in their native tongue. Though Krum tried his best to include me in the conversation, it was mostly in Bulgarian and the lot of it flew over my head.

I was obviously the wrong person for this job. It should have been Granger sitting here. She could've put up witty banter with these people. Probably would've engaged the surly Germans in conversation too. I knew that even if I had spoken the language, without her here I was much too afraid to engage in anything, despite all of Krum's feeble attempts.

I was a coward.

I couldn't even ignore them all and stare up at the ceiling like I wanted to, pretending like they weren't even there. It was so bloody awkward. Not as awkward as dining with the Dark Lord, mind you, but it's probably a close second. I was almost happy when the plates were cleared away and the lights were dimmed to suit the evening's activities.

Krum eventually left, but the Minister and his deputy remained nearby, chattering away in Bulgarian. They were probably plotting to slaughter puppies by the way they were carrying on. I took the opportunity to turn my head towards the open space of the dance floor, glad for the excuse to not have to participate in this awkwardness any longer.

It was _almost _a relief.

Granger was right there, holding Davies's arm as they prepared to partake in the first dance. My jaw might have dropped, I can't quite remember. I remember feeling a bit sick at the sight of her – sick, elated, and a little bit dizzy. Davies's hands were upon her then and they waltzed wonderfully, gracefully, as if they'd done it hundreds of times before.

I was almost jealous. Could I move so effortlessly, so seamlessly? Could I ever be part of something so beautiful? Was I ever going to move so brilliantly with anyone like that, ever? Could I possibly move like that with _her? _

Krum claimed the next dance and it was almost the same except better and worse. They moved together easily, like two people who have known each other forever and intimately. She smiled at him sweetly and he grinned at her. They were so accustomed to each other that they easily carried on a conversation through the dance. There was a lively pink colour on her cheeks from her exertions and I was enthralled.

How could someone look like that, be intelligent and industrious, and _still _be the kindest person I'd ever met? It annoyed the hell out of me. So what did I do? I think it might be obvious. I stared at her for hours like some sort of sick, perverted stalker.

And so it went.

She danced when people asked her, of which there was a very long line. She rested in between, talking and smiling with all kinds of people, trying to get them to see her point of view. I realized somewhere in the middle that she was doing all of this to get people to support her in the conferences. She did it so seamlessly, though, that it might just look like a casual conversation to an observer.

She was tireless. She was _relentless. _It was obvious to me that she was on a mission. What that mission was in particular, I couldn't really have known at that point in time. I watched on, though, still amazed at the vision that she was.

Krum was right. She really did look pretty. And then I had to look down at myself, my shabby chic attire that she'd created for me out of nothing. Granger had assured me upstairs that I looked absolutely fine, but looking at myself now, I felt rather self conscious. Could I possibly compare to the rest of these handsomely dressed men if I stood next to her? Wouldn't I just look like a big embarrassment?

That thought kept me firmly planted in my seat for the next hour and a half. I stomped down on any thoughts of going up to her.

It was when the Bulgarian Minister's deputy appeared behind her with a drink that I started. Looking next to me, I realized that I had missed the entirety of the Bulgarian Minister's conversation with his minion (not that I would've understood it anyway. They had probably purposely been speaking in Bulgarian to exclude me). The Minister looked upon the scene with me, pretending to be bored. But I could see the interest in the way he gripped his glass. It was obvious something was happening.

I turned back towards Granger. She had accepted the drink because she was polite and unsuspecting. The two French diplomats she'd been speaking to seemed miffed that the Bulgarian hadn't thought to bring _them _drinks too. They were irked with the rudeness of the gesture and stalked off, though Granger desperately tried to make them come back and continue their conversation.

Then the deputy minister gestured for her to drink.

I was on my feet and rushing towards her before I could really think it through. Something in my instincts told me that there was something seriously wrong with the scene, though no one else seemed to think so. Then again, I was probably the only one that was bothering to watch Granger to pass the time (and _only _pass the time, mind you). Me, and the Bulgarian Minister, that is.

It was the most fantastical thing. I reached her just as she awkwardly raised the glass to her lips, no longer being able to avoid accepting the drink. I gripped her arm to still her. She turned around to stare at me with wide eyes and an expression that said: _what the hell do you think you're doing? _The deputy minister looked at me with an open mouth.

I didn't turn around to see the Bulgarian Minister's face, but I was willing to bet my left arm that he was glaring daggers at me.

"Granger," I greeted awkwardly, gingerly taking the glass from her. I was surprised she didn't protest, just stared at me with the calculating gaze. She was trying to figure me out, I could tell. It made me lose my nerve. What the hell had I be thinking, doing something so stupid? "Er… I think they need you out there."

I gestured to the exit in an exaggerated fashion. I could feel myself blushing profusely. I was tempted to smash the glass that seemed to be burning my hand. I wanted to drink it to see if I wasn't making all of this up. I wanted to throw it at the deputy minister's face and make a run for it. I wanted to turn around and salute the Bulgarian Minister with a smirk. In the end, I just stared stupidly at Granger.

"Alright," Granger said to me, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She began to walk out of the ballroom as if someone actually did need her out there. I began to panic. For a second I felt like she would be really disappointed in me if there really was nothing for her to do out there. She stopped to turn and look at me with a raised brow. "Aren't you coming?"

She didn't stop to wait for me as she continued on, so I hurried after her like it was my one purpose in this strange and pathetic life.

**A/N: I want to apologize if any of you are Bulgarian. I don't know how to write English in the accent so you're just going to have to excuse me. Please let me know what you thought! And here's something to pass the time until I post the next chapter: **

"I'm sorry," I whispered, harshly. I made to get away from her. She probably didn't want the root of her problem staring her in the face. "I'm _so sorry._"

But she only gripped me tighter. "Please, Draco," she sobbed. "Just… just stay for a little while."

**Unsigned Reviews: **

**Wasted: **I'm really excited that these spoilers are _that _catchy. Hope it was worth the wait! Thank you so very much for reviewing.


	13. Trust

**A/N: **My family has been kind enough to stop in a town in the middle of nowhere so I can post this chapter. I'm sitting in a booth at Denny's and making plenty good use of this free wifi. Vacation has been fun, thank you all for asking! Not going to lie, though. This chapter wouldn't be up if I hadn't pre-written it, which is a little alarming since I was kind of saving it for when school started up again. OH WELL!

Thank you to you lovely reviewers. WE ARE OFFICIALLY AT 100! So, shout out to: Imfeelingthis, HarryPGinnyW4eva, mssweetychessgir, buttercup88, Onigiri Momoko, I love Music, kitcatscratch, and lakelady8425.

This chapter is very special to me. These two scenes were amongst the first I envisioned when I planned to write this and now it's on paper. I hope you enjoy! I'll definitely be more prompt about updating next week.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: TRUST**

Granger didn't stop just outside the ballroom doors like I'd expected. No, she just didn't seem satisfied with something so _reasonable. _Instead, she continued on trekking through the hotel as if she owned the place (did she?) and as if she actually had somewhere to go or something to see (_did she?). _I trailed along behind her because…

Well, she'd asked me to.

When she pushed open a side exit door, I'd expected an alleyway. Instead, I followed her out into what was unmistakably Bulgaria's attempt at a lavish garden. It was obviously magically enchanted. Even though it was summer time, anyone could tell you all these flowers didn't belong in this kind of climate. What on earth were the landscapers _thinking? _It was over abundant. It was too fragrant. It was nothing like that priceless artwork on the ceiling that I'd wanted to spend hours staring at.

But then, Granger stopped. She stopped and turned around to look at me, so I stopped too. She filled up that big old garden even though she was a tiny person in her tiny blue dress. And suddenly, it was all okay. It was almost as if her being there made the gaudiness of this exhibition… _balance out. _Or maybe my eyes were simply drawn to her (forcefully) so that I had no more space to take in the rest of the abundant monstrosity.

She kicked off her treacherous high heeled shoes and sat down on a conveniently placed stone bench. It was so like her that I had to crack a smile. She didn't smile back, though, and it was the first time that that had happened. My heart fluttered and then stopped completely for a second. I always had to wonder with her – is _this _going to be the moment we were finished dancing around each other?

"You going to tell me what's going on?" she asked me gently, staring at me hard.

"Uh…"

I was suddenly at a loss for words. So I stood there, staring back at her open mouthed like a dumb witted idiot. She raised a brow as if she hadn't expected that kind of a response. It looked like she wanted to say, _well you son of a bitch? Why the hell are we here, then? _And I really didn't know why we were in this overbearing garden with too many flowers or why she'd taken her shoes off. I'd just wanted to not have her dead.

"What's wrong, Draco?" she asked.

It was the touch of concern in her eyes that snapped me out of it. "I think the Bulgarian Minister was trying to poison you."

She nodded and _hmm_ed as if that were a reasonable thing for someone to say in a foreign country. She proceeded to massage her probably very tired feet. I almost asked her if she wanted any help with that, but caught my tongue at the last second. There really was no need to make this situation any worse than it actually was. She was obviously just tired from dancing. She had just dragged me out here because she was polite to a fault.

"So," she said in a matter of fact tone, "are you just going to keep that drink with you or are you trying to poison me too?"

It took me a second to realize what she was talking about. When I glanced down I realized I'd been clenching the glass of whatever this was in my clammy hand. I only then realized what I must have looked like to her. Dazed, concerned, scared, and suspicious. But did she really think I'd _poison _her? Her of all people?

"_Sorry,_" I choked out, eyes wide.

She was shaking so hard with laughter that I was concerned she might break apart for a second. Her shoulders were shaking and the glee in her eyes was a little _too _mischievous than I was used to. She had got me with the tough-scared act. But I couldn't even resent her for it.

"Sorry," she grinned. "It was just too easy. I couldn't resist."

I couldn't resist either, I wanted to tell her. You're really stunning when you're playful. I didn't say those things, though. Rather, I went and sat down next to her on the stone bench, smiling and shaking my head. She would let loose a soft chuckle every so often, still massaging her foot and I just basked in the silence. It wasn't like how it had been on the train ride coming here. No… this was almost peaceful.

"What am I meant to do with this?" I finally asked her, turning my whole body so I could face her. "What are you going to do? I mean, if this really is poison, this is like… like an act of war or something! You could get him fired or worse! On second thought, maybe you shouldn't-"

"Malfoy!" she said, grinning at me. "Relax, would you? We don't even know what it _is._"

"Right," I said, reddening again. At this rate, my cheeks were never going to return to their usual colouring. "So…"

"Go pour it over that hideous pink flower," she said. "That should give us a good idea of what it is without drawing too much attention."

She didn't even have to gesture twice, though there were many ugly pink flowers in our vicinity. It was gigantic with a core that resembled a sunflower. It must've been a hybrid or something, because it made it look deformed. It was obscenely large with a shade of pink that clashed with all the flowers surrounding it. Looking at it honestly made my eyes hurt. I had to touch it to assure myself it wasn't made out of garish plastic before pouring Granger's drink over it.

Just as I was about to tilt the contents of the glass over, though, she shouted out for me to stop. She rushed over on her bare feet and grasped a hold of my wrist, her other hand on the glass.

"You have to pour it gently at the roots. Plants absorb water and nutrients at the root. Here, you see?" She paused to move my hand and help me pour the drink at the dark soil at the base of the flower. "This way we can see the maximum effect of whatever's in this instead of wasting half of it."

I was vaguely disappointed when she let my wrist go, but both our attention was drawn to the flower not but a second later. The big ugly thing began to droop, almost literally bent at the stem. The little insect creatures that were making the garish thing their homes clung on for dear life as the plant fell over, uprooting them.

"Well!" Granger exclaimed excitedly. "Either it's a sleeping draught or the plant is dead and that thing would've killed me."

I looked at her incredulously. "Why on earth do you sound so _cheery _about that? Why is the Bulgarian Minister trying to off you in public?"

"You're right, it _was _very public. I'd put a bigger bet on the sleeping draught," she conceded. "I wager it was because I was half done convincing those French diplomats to convince their parliament to put sanctions on trade with Bulgaria."

"But why would…" I trailed off, looking at her overly pleased expression. "What have you done, Granger?"

"Well, France is Bulgaria's biggest trade partner. If they're on board with this, then-"

"Then Bulgaria's got to do something about this human rights business. You sneaky, sneaky witch, Granger!" I applauded. The moment seemed right to pat her on the back, so I did. I grinned to myself when she didn't protest, but the feel of her boney little shoulder wiped it right off my face. "That right murdering _bastard _though, trying to drug you like that. It's barbaric-"

"Shh!" she cut me off, looking around us for potential eavesdroppers. "Not so loud."

"Sorry," I mumbled, adequately chastised.

"You're right though," she said consolingly, "Awfully bold. And I swear, two more dances in with the tall one and I'd have had him right in the palm of my hand."

"You have everyone at the palm of your hand, Granger," I said without thinking.

She paused for a second to stare at me, the burning curiosity obvious even to oblivious old me. It took me a second to realize how that must've sounded to her and had to pray that she didn't misconstrue it all too badly. Her eyes were bright and round, her lips parted into a perfect little "_O_". It was… warm.

She shook her head. "I didn't see you come out for a single dance, though," she said, changing the subject and breaking the intense (and slightly awkward) moment. "Left me to do all the hard work."

I smirked. This was an easy game to play. "No one wanted to dance with me, thankfully."

"That's not true!" she insisted. Her earnest expression made me laugh, even though her words were absolutely not true. "I would've danced with you," she said, almost as an afterthought. She blushed furiously as if realized exactly what she was saying and to whom. I grew warm at her unintentional admission.

"No, you wouldn't have," I said to her, mostly so she wouldn't feel awkward. "The line was much too long. Everyone wanted a piece of that action."

She laughed. "I'm not _that _big of a dancer, Malfoy."

"Sure you are!" I said with a grin. "I would know. I took lessons."

"You _didn't_," she said with a fake gasp and a giggle. "How…"

"Mortifying?" I nodded with a grimace. "Yeah… comes with the territory of being a snobbish pureblood."

She was laughing again, her perfect, beautiful laugh, and I couldn't help but laugh along with her. I wasn't really sure what was so funny or why she was laughing at me, but I couldn't help it. Her joy was too much to resist. And I was happy that I had survived such a boringly dreary ordeal this evening. I was happy that Granger was here and wide awake instead of sleeping off a sleeping draught. Or, you know… dead.

She stood up and brushed off her skirts. And then she gave me the most exaggerated curtsey I had ever seen. It made me snort and I could tell she was suppressing a giggle.

"Would you give me the honor of this dance, kind sir?" she asked in the highest pitched voice I had ever heard. She grinned and I had to burst out laughing at her idea of mocking me. She extended her hand to me and I took it without hesitating. She tugged me to my feet with more force than I thought capable of a girl her size. "Ohh, all of my small pathetic dreams have come true! I may just _swoon._"

I laughed harder at her batting eye lashes and fake countenance. She grinned at me then.

When I placed my hand lightly at her waist and clasped her hand in mine, she was thrown a little. It occurred to me that maybe she hadn't actually expected me to want to dance with her, that the whole of this was just a joke. Though it _was _rather funny – the lot of it – I had to grasp and take everything she was willing to give me.

I was about to guide us forward when I realized. "We have no music."

I fully expected her to take that moment and say, _well too bad Malfoy. I guess I can't have this unnecessary and incredibly awkward dance with you._ Instead, she began sounding the melody of something incredibly obnoxious (possibly muggle) and gripping my hand even more firmly than before. It all seemed so goddamn ridiculous that I couldn't help but chuckle. Her face was bright and lit up with amusement. Breathy little giggles interrupted her horrible attempt at providing music.

And we danced.

It was really, really silly. I had imagined dancing with her while I'd been watching her waltz gracefully inside with the others. This was nothing like that. She was smiling and laughing and singing the tune in such a ridiculous fashion that I couldn't even stop myself from continuously laughing. We stumbled and tripped and barely concentrated on how we were moving. It was hardly a dance at all, really. Her hair was falling out everywhere, some of it frizzing. I wanted to touch it, but I refrained.

I didn't want to ruin this moment. I didn't want this dance to ever end, as silly as it was. I wanted to stretch this into forever, dance with her just like this in this odious garden and always feel this way.

My hands burned from where I was able to touch her. Her hand felt soft and warm in mine, her waist the perfect curve to hold on to. I didn't dare stroke it through the fabric or let my hands wander. But I wondered at it. Would she feel as soft everywhere as her hand? Softer? I had seen this curve bare just a few hours ago. And now, here I was actually touching it. I didn't tell myself that these thoughts were too dangerous to think.

I simply felt.

I let the urge overtake me and picked her up to twirl her around. It was very much like our learned dance for the Yule Ball, only she was shrieking and laughing as I did, the melody of her silly song long forgotten. We had to stop then – or more so, she put her hand on my chest to still me and tried to catch her panting breath.

I simply stared.

"Your lessons really paid off, Draco," she teased.

But the moment was over and I wasn't going to get it back. I shook my head. "What are you going to do about the Minister?"

She faltered, not expecting the drastic change of subject. "I'm going to go to the conference on Monday like nothing's happened."

"But-" I started, but she put up a hand.

"It's our turn to speak. I'm going to make my case. Roger's going to speak. I've got this whole next week to try and convince the French diplomats and probably the Germans, too." She paused to regard me carefully. "If you like, you can accompany Roger and I on Monday. We're taking the German diplomats out for dinner."

"Perhaps," I offered with a wistful smile.

What had I been thinking? She didn't need me. She had all this planned for and under control. It wasn't idealism, either. She was hitting them where it actually hurts. She was moving power with money. She was the real bloody deal. Granger was really going to make a change. I felt like a selfish prick for ever doubting her tenacity.

"What are you thinking?" she asked me seriously after a moment.

"I-" But I was cut off again, this time by a raindrop falling right on my nose. I frowned. "It's raining."

She reached forward without thinking and wiped it off me with her thumb. "So it is. What were you going to say?"

Only that you're the most perfect person I've ever met. Or that I wish the teenage Draco Malfoy hadn't cared so much about blood so he could've figured this out a lot sooner. I wanted to say, I wish when you looked at me you didn't see such a pathetic person who is too desperate for your attention. I wanted to ask if I could touch you without the negative consequences.

"I was going to say that we should be getting inside," I said instead as nonchalantly as I could. In reality, I was probably going to ask her to dance again, this time without the silliness. "Your friends and admirers are probably wondering where you are."

I might've been imagining it, but I think she seemed a little disappointed with my answer. "Alright. You don't have to go back in again, though. I understand that it's _boring…" _

"That's okay," I insisted sincerely. It was, after all, a free chance to stare at her. Another moment to seize and make mine. "I should stick around to make sure no one tries to do you in again."

She chuckled, even though I was being entirely serious. I followed her through this maze of a hotel, back to the ballroom and back to the misery. The back of her gown was a beautiful as the front, I realized. It was cut low to expose her shoulder blades and her strong spine. One would think that the heavy bags she constantly carried around would've bent it a little, but she had perfect posture. I decided immediately that it was too modest. I couldn't see enough of Granger's back through it and it irked me.

"Actually," she said, turning around and interrupting my odd thoughts. "You go on ahead. I think it might look weird if we go in together now. I'm just going to nip into the ladies room and be back in five…"

She was off before I could even say anything, so I shrugged my shoulders and walked in on my own.

She was right. Davies accosted me the second I walked in the door. "Where is Hermione?"

"Granger?" As if there were several Hermiones walking about. "How should I know?"

Davies looked a bit thrown and relieved at the same time, as if he had been expecting the worst. I almost wish I'd told him I'd left her in the loo, but I was rather sure he would've beaten me to a pulp if I did something so brash.

"Someone said they saw her leave with you," he was saying.

I shrugged noncommittally to be unhelpful on purpose. He shook his head and left, searching for her no doubt. I didn't even feel bad. I owed him nothing.

They both appeared a short while later. By that time I was leaning against the bar, sipping my free (non-alcoholic) drink. She had pinned her hair back up again and fixed up her ruffled appearance. There was no evidence (not even a flush) that she had been out gallivanting with me. It kind of put me off. I felt like her dirty little secret, but I didn't bother leaving. It seemed to me that Davies was harassing her, talking her ear off, or just being his annoying clingy self.

I didn't know where the urge came from, but I kind of really wanted to box his ears in then.

She eventually made her rounds, speaking to everyone and their grandmothers. Just watching her felt exhausting, but she was tireless. She was always on a mission and always energetic about it. For a brief second I wondered why, but the answer was obvious. She was Hermione Granger. This is just how she was.

It was well after one in the morning when she headed up to bed. We were amongst the last people to leave. I didn't follow her up immediately because I figured she would want a little bit of discretion. So I stood there and finished my drink and another after it.

By the time I climbed the stairs to my room, I was utterly exhausted. It had been an explosive day, filled with _everything, _and now it was over. I wasn't sure whether I ought to be sad or depressed about that fact. I wasn't entirely sure I could feel anything at all. I was that tired.

I suppose politicians and diplomats work uncivilized hours, too.

When I got to my room, I didn't bother with anything unnecessary. I didn't even fully undress. Granger had, after all, transfigured my pajamas and I had nothing else to wear to bed. Sleeping naked didn't sound like too bright an idea, either. My door to her room was unlocked, after all. Being discovered in the morning, completely nude… That would be a story she'd probably tell _everyone. _

So I just laid there in the fanciest things I now owned and thought of Granger curled up in her bed, fast asleep. I thought of every good thing that had happened to me today over and over again until I finally fell asleep, dreaming of odious flowers, frizzy hair, and a contagious laugh.

/

My eyes opened of their own violation. I was lying in bed and slightly dazed and confused. Turning my head slightly towards the windows, I realized it was still rather dark outside. Too dark for dawn to have come or be anywhere close. For a second, I couldn't figure out what it was that had woken me. My head buzzed with exhaustion and the promise of sleep. Weariness weighed at my bones.

There was a flash of light in the sky, lighting up the entire room even through the curtains. A low grumble of thunder soon followed. I inhaled deeply, letting the sound wash over me. Soon after, I could easily discern the gentle pitter patter of rain against my window. The gentle sound allowed me to adjust my breathing. I was too tired to lift a single muscle.

In a moment, I would let sleep claim me.

Thunder rips the sky and then I hear it a second later. It's a low whimper and a stifled sob. I become slowly alert, not exactly sure what it is I'm hearing, but instantly sure that this is what has woken me from my dead sleep. I hear it again. It sounds like a choked gasp. I sit up slowly in my bed, confused. I feel dazed still, my brain working too sluggishly to understand anything. What is going on?

My eyes are drawn to the door to Granger's room. It's closed shut. I had done it myself before we had left for the night. When I hear the next little sob, I know instantly in my heart that it must be her. I forget the tiredness that is bone deep and any kind of common sense is forgotten with it. I just think that perhaps there are evil Bulgarians trying to kill her and I rush forward, even though I don't have a wand.

Honestly, what was I going to do? Bludgeon them with my fists?

But when I opened the door, there wasn't a soul in sight. The bed covers were strewn, half on the floor, but everything else seemed pretty much to be in place. Her main door was closed and there didn't seem to be any signs of forced entry. There was no sign of her, though, which threw me because I _swore _I had heard…

And then lightening flashed and I heard it again, a whimper coming from underneath the blankets on the floor. Squinting my eyes, I realized that Granger must have tightly curled herself against the edge of the bed. The bed was solid so she couldn't have managed to wedge herself underneath – there simply was no space for that. As my eyes adjusted, I could see the little quiver, the shaking that must be her in her fear.

And I was thrown.

"Granger?" I called, my voice still gravely from sleep and lack of use. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hermione?"

She apparently hadn't heard me come in. Her big hair and part of her little head came out from underneath the blankets she was using as a shield. It struck me then how tiny she actually was. She looked so much like a child then, staring up at me with those big round eyes, that I just didn't know what to do. It was too much.

Emotion welled up inside me, a kind that I'd never felt before in my entire life. It was all I could do to not rush over to her and do something rash. Instead, I walked over slowly so I wouldn't startle her and crouched before her. She had the blanket drawn up all the way to just below her eyes. There were tears streaked down her face and I wanted to cry a little myself at the sight of her. She seemed _broken. _

"What's wrong?" I whispered. I wanted to reach out and touch her, to make sure she really was unharmed, but I resisted the temptation. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

But she just shook her head and stared at me like I was the answer to all of her problems if she could just figure me out. She stared at me without blinking and I became unnerved. I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of – I gently tugged the blanket to uncover the rest of her face. I didn't want her to suffocate, after all. When I ran my thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away her tears, she didn't flinch. I almost wished she had. This was starting to feel too intimate, too… _wrong. _

And then thunder sounded, the windows rattling with a blast of wind, and she almost shrieked beneath my hands. She pulled herself out of her blankets out of her own violation and jumped into my arms. She clung so tight that I thought she might bruise me, but I didn't care. This was… more than I could handle. She gripped my shirt as if she was about to tear it in her fear, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was wrong with her.

Her sob at the next bout of lightening gave me bout of realization. "Are you afraid of thunderstorms, then?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry. It just reminds me of…"

When she gripped my left wrist to explain, I realized. I realized and hot shame washed over me because of it. Though my dark mark had faded, the blotchy black stain of it still remained, marking me for the rest of my pathetic life. And that very thing was what was causing this beautiful, perfect girl so much pain. She was crying because of _me. _She was crying because of everything my lot had done to her and her kind. She acted strong but we had hurt her. _I _had hurt her.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, harshly. I made to get away from her. She probably didn't want the root of her problem staring her in the face. "I'm _so sorry._"

But she only gripped me tighter. "Please, Draco," she sobbed. "Just… just stay for a little while."

I let out a shuddering breath and nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "Okay. If you're… sure."

"Thank you," she sighed, pressing her face into my shirt. "You're still wearing these."

"Yeah," I said, smiling softly. What a mundane thing to say, considering the circumstances. "You didn't transfigure them back. These were my pajamas."

"I'm sorry," she muttered. I just shrugged and made to move to sit beside her against the bed, but she just clung to me tighter. It may have been because at that moment, there was another thundering cacophony of noise outside. "I'm sorry about… about this too. I just can't. I can't."

"It's okay," I said agreeably, taking advantage and holding her closer. I had wanted this somewhere deep inside of me. I had craved having her in my arms, even though it was forbidden to the likes of me. And now she was here. With me. Willingly. It made me let out a shaky breath. "You're safe now."

It took me a little while to gently move her so I could lean against the bed instead of crouch over her. When she realized what I was trying to do, she moved willingly enough, shifting herself to lean against me comfortably between my legs. That she was this willing to accept comfort from the likes of me made my heart flutter and my breath catch in my throat. She had her blanket wrapped securely around the both of us and her head resting on my chest before I could even acclimate myself to the feel of all of this, to all of _her. _It was…

It was everything. Sitting on the floor of Granger's room, holding her small body in my arms, I realized it was everything.

"It's not real," she whispered, a tremble passing through her so strong that I shook a little bit, too. "I know it's not. She's long dead, but…"

"Who?" I asked. I didn't need to ask to know, but I could see that she needed to confide this in someone, even if that someone was me.

"Bellatrix." She said her name dispassionately, as if it didn't matter that the psychotic woman had ever existed. Her voice was surprisingly steady, given that her heart was pounding hard enough for me to feel and she was shaking like a leaf. "Do you… do you remember?"

I hadn't realized that I had been stroking her hair until her words made me stop and freeze. "I couldn't forget if I tried."

"It wasn't your fault," she said eventually with a sigh. "It was no one's fault but hers and she's long gone but… but I'm still living with it and it makes me weak. No one knows, but every time there's a violent storm, I just break apart like I'm lying pinned to the floor with her knife to my neck and-"

She was sobbing by this point, unrestrained. I didn't know what to do, so I held her closer. "I won't tell anyone, Granger."

She nodded her thanks and I shuddered again. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be in her shoes. She was so strong and collected and _perfect _every time I saw her. I'd had no idea she was carrying something so heavy inside of her all by herself. I wanted to take it all away from her. She shouldn't have to have that bitch running around in her mind and controlling her like this.

I remembered it happen more clearly than I'd like to. When I close my eyes I can see Granger lying on my drawing room floor and Bellatrix's wand dangling over her. I remember every crucio with clarity and, if I let myself, I can hear the screams Granger had let out echo against the walls of my house and my skull.

Yet, here I was with her. I'd stood there and watched her get tortured and here she was, letting me hold her and forgiving me for being a coward.

"How can you stand it?" I asked her, needing to know. How can you stand letting me touch you when I watched you get tortured and did nothing about it?

"I didn't go home for a very long time, you know," she said and I was confused. What did she mean? "After the war, I went to Australia to stay with my parents a while and the change of scenery helped it all go away. After I got my job with the Ministry, I didn't have to come home to England very much. Only here and there, for a day or so. Last month was the first time I was in London for more than a day in the past…three years? I don't know. It just _helps _not having to look at the evidence of what happened."

And then it all made sense to me.

Every odd comment she had made, every stupid thing she had done, it all made sense. It all rushed through my head. Granger walking in the street, approaching me at the Ministry, the way she spoke about policy as if it actually made a proper difference… Granger acted like things were normal back home because she hadn't _seen _anything. Granger hadn't come home because she couldn't bear to see the past.

Hermione hadn't seen the _present. _

"Have you… have you kept in touch with your friends?" I asked tentatively.

"I see Harry and the Weasleys' every so often. More often than not, they come out to see me. Vacation, you know? Rarely have to go to the Ministry…" She yawned. I realized the storm had begun to pass on over us, just leaving a gentle rain behind. The sound seemed to lull Granger right out of her scared misery and into tiredness. "Pretty good messenger service…"

Politics wasn't really something one talked about on vacation and holidays, especially if you hadn't seen your friend in so long. Right? And if she hadn't had to go to the Ministry, it meant she hadn't actually seen the results of domestic policy on its citizens. She did, after all, work in the Department of _International _Magical Cooperation.

The only reason Granger hadn't rallied behind the Death Eater's cause back home was probably because she didn't know a thing about what was going on with us. My mind whirled at the possibility. How could this be the case? How could someone like Granger _not _know? She knew _everything _and she cared about everything. She was the pillar of all that was good and just. How could it be that this had escaped her attention?

But then I looked down at her, _really _looked. Her eyes were closed and there were tear tracks marring her red, blotchy face. This wasn't the strong and all powerful Hermione Granger I knew. This was just another broken soul that I could mistake for one of my own. _This _Granger wouldn't want to think about home. This Granger couldn't bear to think about anything related to the war lest it break her further. This Granger never wanted to go back to England ever again.

"Draco?" she mumbled.

I started. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, snuggling into me and sighing. Her eyes didn't open and it was the sign of trust that made my heart melt for her. I forgave her then for running away from her problems as she had forgiven me for making mistakes. "You can go…"

"It's okay." I stroked her cheek with my thumb. "You're safe now."

She smiled a small, sad smile and I watched entranced as she drifted off to sleep in my arms. I didn't dare move or break away my gaze. I just sat there, holding her to me, afraid she would disappear if I let go. So there we were, tangled on the floor of a hotel room in Bulgaria, her wrapped in blankets, and me still wearing my now wrinkled transfigured robes.

When I fell asleep, it was to the sound of her soft breaths and to the knowledge that she trusted me more than anyone else in this whole entire world. It was to the thought that she probably believed I deserved more than I had.

And maybe, just maybe, I fell asleep smiling too.

**A/N: So what did you think? Don't be a stranger! I love hearing from each and every one of you. I'll be back home on Friday evening so next Monday's chapter won't be late (hopefully). **

**Here's a little snippet in the meanwhile: **

"Tired," I mumbled, snuggling further into my pillows. I purposely chose to ignore the look on her face as she stared at me then. It was contemplative and assessing. It was…soft. It was too much to process in my groggy mind, so I pressed a pillow to my face to block it out. "Go to sleep, Granger."

"What, here?" she asked me. I didn't have to lift the pillow away to know she was smiling. I could hear it in her voice.

**Have a lovely week! **


	14. And We All Fall Down

**A/N: **A lot of crazy things are going on with me, so this is a nice break from it all. I really appreciate all of you guys for reading. Hello to all you new readers! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. The last scene is also something I envisioned before I even began writing this story. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

A special thank you to my reviewers: Katatyanna, DJK, awesomeladanchica, Onigiri Momoko, HarryPGinnyW4eva, kitcatscratch, and christinahhh.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: AND WE ALL FALL DOWN**

When I wake, I'm so stiff it isn't even funny. I couldn't even make my body move where I wanted it to. My head was locked into place, my neck too stiff to support the weight of it, and the rest of my limbs were stuck. Just _stuck. _It took me a second to realize that I wasn't actually paralyzed.

Rather, I was still stuck beneath Granger's dead weight.

She was using me as a body pillow, clearly, her head burrowed comfortably into my neck. No wonder it was so stiff. I was probably very comfortable to sleep on judging by the contented look on her little face. I had been using her fluffy hair as a pillow. And it really didn't feel as fluffy as it looks in reality, let me just tell you that. Now that I had lived through the experience, Granger wasn't as weightless as she looked. My chest ached something fierce from her lying on me for so long.

There was a knock at the door and I wondered if whoever it was had knocked before. Granger remained fast asleep against me, her perfect little lips parted. I kind of didn't want to wake her up from her slumber. She seemed so peaceful like this that I didn't want to disturb her. It was a stark contrast to her tear stained face from last night.

But the knock sounded again and I figured it must be urgent, so I shook her. Even though I was gentle, she groaned loudly and wrapped her arms around me tightly, pressing her face further into my neck. I had to laugh, even though my initial response was to moan and forcibly push down another physical response I had no business feeling.

Who knew, though? Hermione Granger was a snuggler.

"Hermione," I said slowly near her ear. I was more amused than I should've been at her snuggling tendencies. "Come on, sweetheart. It's time to wake up. We're going to be late for school!"

I'm not even exaggerating. She literally jumped up from her place in my lap and stared at me with bleary, confused eyes. There was a measure of shock and embarrassment plain on her face. Her mouth was open, as if she didn't know what to say or rather, how to explain away her embarrassing snuggling behavior. The look on her face was so endearing that I had to laugh. It was all in good fun, really. I couldn't help myself.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered. "Oh god…I…"

"Like to cuddle?" I provided with a snicker. Her resulting glare was so hilarious that I only laughed harder. "Don't worry, Hermione. I like to cuddle, too. In fact, I don't go a day without it!"

She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to chew me out. But before she could, there was another knock at the door. I was both relieved and vaguely disappointed that she'd been cut off – I'd been excited to hear what she'd have to say in her defense. As it was, we both paused, her standing above me and I was sprawled on the floor at the side of her bed. At first, I didn't know what to do, but in a second she was moving, shoving the blanket back on the bed and me towards my room.

I went willingly, of course, because clearly she didn't want to be caught with me in her room – how scandalous, compromising, and unprofessional! – and because of the smile on her face. This was now a secret that we both shared. It looked like a promise for something special, something that could come later, when the rest of the world was finished knocking at her door.

"Wait," she said, halfway to answering her door. "About last night…"

"I won't tell anyone," I said, promising immediately. And it was true. I wouldn't tell a soul.

She smiled like she believed me without a doubt. I closed the door between our rooms securely behind me and collapsed on my bed, oddly exhausted though all I'd done was sleep for the last few hours. Even from all the way over here from my bed, I heard her unlock the door and exchange greetings with whoever it was. I wondered if she'd answer the door if she knew it was me on the other side. I figured there was a good chance now that she would.

The thought made my face heat up, so I naturally locked it away where I keep all of my other embarrassing thoughts. Like the time Potter had cut me up and I'd had to spend way too much time in the infirmary. Or the time I'd seen Snape changing out of his robes. Godfather or not, that was a sight I never needed to revisit ever again.

The unexpected visitor came into her room – I could hear the voices coming closer to my shared door – and surprise, surprise! It was Davies. Of course it was, who else would it have been?

"I thought I'd heard…"

"What?" Hermione said and I could sense the irritation in her voice, even from here. I bet she even had her brow raised. It was all good, though. Davies deserved every ounce of her ire. "What did you need, Roger?"

They cut directly to the chase, then, Davies probably sensing that Hermione didn't feel like putting up with his shit just then. I wondered if Granger knew just how much Davies wanted her to notice him in ways other than professionally. Or was she just oblivious about it? Maybe she just didn't want to lead him on because they were colleagues. Perhaps her pretending to be oblivious was her idea of dealing with a potentially awkward situation.

I drifted off to the lull of their conversation, the lure of sleep too hard to ignore. I couldn't figure out exactly why I was so tired, only that I was. There was nowhere I needed to be – nowhere had I to go until Monday, in fact. I was just going to lie here for the next two days in this ridiculously comfortable bed and absorb as much sleep as a bloated sponge. Did sponges bloat or did they swell? My mind filled with images of sponges and their techniques of… well, expanding.

I didn't hear the door open, but when Granger plopped herself down on my bed next to me, I may have shrieked like a girl. She cackled at me like an evil villain and I scowled at her, because this was just too much.

"Sorry," she snickered.

"But not really," I added, noting the smug look on her face. I lay back down comfortably and yawned.

"But not really," she repeated, nodding. "Are you just going to sleep all day?"

"Tired," I mumbled, snuggling further into my pillows. I purposely chose to ignore the look on her face as she stared at me then. It was contemplative and assessing. It was…soft. It was too much to process in my groggy mind, so I pressed a pillow to my face to block it out. "Go to sleep, Granger."

"What, here?" she asked me. I didn't have to lift the pillow away to know she was smiling. I could hear it in her voice.

"Your bed's too far," I mumbled through mouthfuls of pillow. Already I could feel sleep and exhaustion clouding my mind. I fell into it willingly enough because I could feel the heat of her body all the way from here. It was too comforting. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

She paused for a second and I knew she was staring again. I wondered blearily what she was thinking, what she _could _be thinking about through all this haze and tiredness. I didn't bother acknowledging that she probably wasn't one bit tired. But I didn't move a muscle anyway or bother asking her what was going through her mind. It could wait. It could all wait until Monday morning when we were required to be functioning individuals again.

"Okay, Draco," she agreed, moving the pillow off my face. By that point I was already almost gone. Her voice was warm and suspiciously close. "Let's go to sleep."

And so we did.

/

It was dark when I came to and I wondered why I had bothered opening my eyes at all. They felt sore and gritty. My mouth was dry and there was a lump in my throat. My brain was drowning in some sort of a fog that demanded that I just roll over and let myself fall back into a deep slumber and do so immediately or suffer the consequences of a really horrible and pounding headache. Why had I bothered opening my eyes? Why on earth did I want to return to the land of the living…

"Draco," I heard from somewhere above me. "Come now. We've slept away the whole day. It's dinner time."

Of course that was what had woken me up.

"I'm tired," I groaned, my voice rough from disuse.

She sighed. "So come down and eat something and then go back to sleep."

"No," I whined, even though I knew it would probably annoy her. I just felt _so, _so tired. "I don't want to."

"Fine! Do whatever you like," she said. She muttered something under her breath and went out the door, probably to get some dinner. She slammed the door behind her. I almost felt bad for irritating her. Almost.

My eyes were burning and my chest ached. It felt like how it'd been just as I'd woken up this morning with Hermione on top of me and crushing me. I felt like I couldn't breathe, really. Kind of like that time I'd had my ribs broken. Was she really _that _heavy, I wondered? On second thought, it was probably just exhaustion. I could feel my head spinning a little and pressing my face into the pillow helped that. The smell of fresh linens kind of made me slip into a coma – half asleep, half awake, and half… just gone.

I didn't hear her open the door. Maybe she tip toed back in or maybe she banged her way around in exuberance as she had always done. I really couldn't have been accountable at that point. I was startled out of my daze when she pressed the back of her hand to my face and exclaimed something unintelligible out loud. It was something like: _Merlin, you're burning! _Or, Draco, what an itchy cheek you have! Shave you disgraceful caveman! Most likely, it was something like – good gods, you've a fantastic face, why haven't I touched it before?

I didn't even have the energy to snicker at my brilliant joke, I was that gone.

"No, Granger, _stop_," I said, when she tried to get me to sit up by tugging on my arm. "_Hermione! _I swear you evil cat, if you don't stop I'll…"

"What, sneeze? Complain a little more?" she snickered, pulling me up anyway. Since when was she so strong? "Here, I brought you dinner. Eat it while I get you a pepper up potion. Maybe a sleeping draught too."

I may have sat there, staring blankly ahead off into space until she thundered back into my room, only turning on a lamp so she could see what she was doing. Still, the meager light hurt my eyes and I grumbled about it. She threatened to force feed me in response. I began to comply with her wishes silently then, because there was a mischievous glint in her eye and I didn't particularly fancy being on the receiving end of her wrath.

"Are you always such a baby when you feel a little bit ill?" she asked with a genuine smile.

I laid my head back against the head board and closed my eyes, willing the pounding to just subside for a second. "Yes," I responded honestly. "Just no one is usually there to hear it. So, I'm sorry."

She took my admission in stride like she always did with everything I let slip. "Well here. Drink these. They should make you feel better."

I did so without complaint, a rush of gratitude flushing through me, but when I thanked her she just waved it away like it was nothing. It was distinctly odd, realizing what I had in that moment. Back in England, I didn't have the money for things like pepper up potions, or a bed so soft, or a warm person to take care of me. All I had back there were a bunch of broken dreams and a maybe friend that needed me more than I needed him.

There was a rush of wind outside, rattling the panes of my window. I saw her jump slightly out of the corner of my eye and realized that it had probably been raining on and off all day long. Perhaps that explained why Granger hadn't left me alone in my room all day, save for that brief little bit for dinner. Or maybe she had just been tired, too, who the hell knew with Hermione?

"Do you mind staying here?" I asked her before tipping back the dreamless sleep potion. "These always make me disoriented. Don't want to choke… on my tongue…"

She was smiling sadly at me, halfway in appreciation for my blatant lie. I'd never had any trouble with dreamless sleep potions – I couldn't even afford them – and she probably knew that. She nodded anyway, though, and said something that didn't reach my ears. I fell asleep, facing her. The last thing I saw was her staring out the window, watching the rain fall.

/

The rain didn't go away over night and when I woke up that Sunday morning, it was still dark and bleary. My face hurt and my body hurt worse, though thankfully the pounding in my head wasn't nearly as bad as it had been the day before. The bone weary exhaustion was still there, though. I could feel it pulsing through me, inviting me to just roll over and go back to that blissful sleep. My eyes hurt enough that I almost considered doing just that.

If only I didn't have to pee so badly. And brush my teeth. And take a shower…

With a sigh, I rolled over onto my back in an attempt to stretch out my hideously sore limbs. What I encountered instead was a soft exclamation and Hermione's startled face staring at me upside down. She was wearing a pair of adorable reading glasses and was holding up a heavy book, which looked heavy enough to crush me should she let it drop.

"Hello," I offered groggily, looking up at her face from my vantage point from her lap. "I see you're still here to protect me from choking."

Her startled expression melted into a soft smile. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

I just groaned in response and lifted myself away from the bed – and her – so I could make myself presentable. My mouth felt wooly and I was rather sure I reeked. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd taken a shower. But there was a clear headedness about me now that only ever came from the liberal use of good quality drugs. Hermione's pepper up potion had clearly done wonders for me, even though my body was aching something fierce.

The shower and the rest helped push that along a little too. I almost felt like a fully functioning human again.

I hadn't realized how long the comforting primping had taken as Hermione was waiting with breakfast for me by the time I was done. She didn't comment on my wet hair and didn't make a move to get up and leave. She just wordlessly handed me a plate and we ate together silently, sitting side by side in my bed. When I was finished, she silently offered me another potion. I drank it without protest this time and collapsed back into the pillows, just watching her.

I was curious, but she ignored it. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, what she was doing here with me, but she didn't offer me the opportunity. So I contented myself with just watching her, just being there with her, and soaking it all in. It was one of the most comfortable days of my life. There were no questions. At that moment, there were no pretenses.

I lived that day in a daze. We didn't leave the bed much. Sometimes I slept, working through the exhaustion. Sometimes, Hermione read to me. Sometimes we talked about work in quiet voices, her asking me for an opinion that she clearly did not need. Sometimes I just watched her exist there in that moment – breathing, blinking, whole, and _there. _

Dinner time came and Hermione went to procure food for us. We ate quietly throughout. She must have felt my eyes on her, but she didn't comment on it, didn't ask what I thought I was doing staring at her like that. We were silent and it filled me with a warm glow. I think companionship really suited me.

Sometime later, she urged me with a quiet word to get ready for bed. I did so with slow moving limbs and an ache of separation. She worked faster, waiting for me with another dreamless sleep potion. I didn't have to ask her to stay this time. She complied wordlessly, shutting the lights and settling in easily next to me. I fell asleep in the same daze I had woken up in.

Not once did it stop raining.

/

Hermione was gone when I woke, early morning light filtering through the curtains. I didn't have to concentrate this time to hear the gentle pitter patter of raindrops against the window. It seemed the season for sunshine in Bulgaria had gone away. At the very least, my exhaustion seemed to have gone away with it.

And it had taken Hermione away, too.

I tried not to think about what this meant, what any of it meant, but I couldn't help myself. I could still feel her presence all around me, even though the spot next to mine in bed was abandoned and cold. Rationally, I could suppose that all of it had been a onetime thing. Reasonably, I figured she had probably just been lonely and scared at first and had decided to stay out of gratitude and pity over my condition.

But still. I wanted it to be more than that. I wanted that promise of something special. I wanted to look like a glittering star so that she couldn't possibly ignore me – couldn't pretend like none of this had ever happened.

In the end, I had to suck it up and move on like Hermione obviously had. I showered and changed, got dressed, and barely made it in time for the tail end of breakfast. I had oddly overslept and was consequently running late. I looked around for Hermione, even though I knew she wouldn't be there. She was nothing if not prepared and punctual. By this time, she would already be setting up at our table at the conference hall.

I knew all of this, yet I was still strangely disappointed when I didn't see her there. By the time I made my own way to the conference room to carry on with my duties, I was dejected beyond reason.

I shouldn't have been.

"You made it," Hermione said with a genuine smile. And it was directed at _me. _"I didn't think you'd feel up to it so I didn't bother knocking."

"Here," Davies said, shoving an envelope into my arms. He was staring at me suspiciously, probably because of what Hermione had said. "This came for you this morning."

"What is it?" I asked, momentarily forgetting that I wasn't supposed to talk to Davies if I wanted to keep my tongue.

"The missive said it was from the Minister's office," Davies replied absently, shuffling the papers before him. He didn't even bother to look up at me as is the polite thing to do. But I was glad for it. My heart had stopped at the sound of _Minister's office. _"I guess it's for your speech today. They must have approved the one I'd written for you."

Hermione's eyes widened. "What-"

But we didn't have time to process what was going on because the proceedings had just begun. We were all being called to attention. The agenda was being read. I heard my name somewhere being called – No, I heard my name being _announced. _I looked at Hermione and she looked back at me with grim uncertainty in her eyes. She nodded – she had no choice but to let this happen – and let go of the envelope.

Time passed too quickly. I wanted to toss Hermione the package so she could tear it open and see just _what _we were getting ourselves in to. But I couldn't because she had already taken her seat. Everyone in that entire goddamn hall had taken their seats. All except for me. All of their eyes were on _me _and I had no choice but to go on. I had lost the cover of anonymity.

And my heart was in my throat, pounding so fast that I was afraid I would choke on it.

What could I have done? Everyone was waiting with their eyes on me. I watched the Bulgarian Minister stare at me with a calculating look in his eye. I could feel Hermione's eyes boring into me from her seat next to me. The weight of the envelope was burning my palms. So I ripped it open and unfolded the neat pages. My eyes began to burn with the tension of the moment.

I cleared my throat. I could've cut the silence in the room with a butter knife. I felt as if I were standing at my Death Eater Trial all over again, waiting to be sentenced to Azkaban, waiting to just plead for my life if they would just listen.

And listen they did.

"My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy," I read as loudly as I could force myself. "I am the son of Lucius Malfoy, convicted Death Eater and…" I paused, my hands shaking. "I have in my past been involved with He Who Must Not Be Named, committed treacherous acts against my country and government and…and I was involved in... the death of Albus Dumbledore."

So it was going to be like this. I mean, it was always going to come to this humilation. Looking up, I saw that the Bulgarian Minister had a smile on his face. Immediately, I recognized that he had planned all of this, had probably set it into motion as soon as that sleeping draught had failed with Hermione. I could see her hands clenched next to me, but couldn't bear to look down at her face. I couldn't help her now. I could only help myself. All of my cards were on the table.

The threat was explicit: Do this or come home to a prison cell. Do this or become even more ostracized than you already are.

I clenched my firsts and forged through it; fighting the redness that I knew was building in my face. This indignity was mine and I was going to be forced to live through it. "I am a reformed citizen now, with much thanks to my Ministry's Death Eater regulation and rehabilitation program. Today, I stand before you as a liaison between former criminals and the good people of British society."

I felt a sort of disgusting shame spread through my belly like a disease.

"In my experiences, both here in Bulgaria and with my rehabilitation program in my home land… I have found that regulation is key." I had to pause. My stomach was in knots and I was rather certain I was going to be sick. My hands were shaking too badly to go on reading. I had to place the papers on the desk before me and smooth them out with my clammy hands. There was no choice. I had to do this. "With regulation comes stability and without stability we cannot maintain the integrity of our community and the greatness of our state."

I could feel myself paling. I almost didn't need to read on to know what was coming next. I didn't need to look at Hermione either to know that she probably knew that I was ruining everything for her at that point. I was about to betray her and there was no stopping it. It _had _to happen.

I was always going to be a coward. She had always known this.

"Without stability, there can be no progress." Had Umbridge written this? Had the Minister himself sat down and penned this for me? "From what I have seen, progress and rehabilitation go hand and hand. This has been my personal story. In my experiences with the British Ministry of Magic, the rehabilitation program… has worked towards the inclusiveness of former Death Eaters like myself and…and this has been achieved through the necessary regulation of our pureblood community."

There was a shocked silence. It was condemning. Here I was, the poster boy for any pureblood movement, and here I was legitimizing my government and all the hell they were putting us through. I didn't dare look up. I was too ashamed to meet anyone's eyes. I couldn't imagine ever being able to see Hermione's face without being mortified ever again. I was a disgrace to my kind. No, I was a disgrace to _human kind. _

I was humiliated.

But I couldn't do anything about it. I had to go on. I had to secure a future for myself, however bleak it was. This couldn't be the end for me. No, I couldn't let this be the end for me.

"It is through our necessary regulation measures and proper policing through which British society is able to reform deviant individuals and sustain progress and stability."

Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit. This was it. This was going to be the punch line. I could feel it.

"In my expert opinion on this matter, I have come to the conclusion that Bulgaria lacks the proper regulation and security measures in order to ensure the safety of its population and to maintain and sustain progress." My breath caught in my throat. I had to clench my fists against the table to keep going. My knees felt as if they would give in and collapse. "In my capacity as an advisor to the Ministry of Bulgaria, I advise that a rehabilitation and regulation program be implemented expressly."

The silence at that point was deafening. I kept my eyes downcast, staring at the pieces of parchment that had effectively marked me as a traitor to my cause and to my people. I was flushed and I was shaking. I was mortified to be put on display for all of these people. Everyone here knew what had just happened – that I had been _forced _to do this, that this had been _planned. _Everyone knew that I had just forfeited my position as someone credible.

Everyone knew that Hermione Granger was never going to trust me ever again.

I had to fight the tears of humiliation that were building. I promised myself that if nothing else, I was not going to let these people see me cry. That was all I had left now. I was going to keep that shred of dignity and keep it with me forever. This was something that I could never let go.

I saw no reason to stay there and continue to be a freak show.

The master of ceremonies was finally back on his schedule, apparently needing a minute to get over the shock of the bomb I had dropped on everyone. He introduced the next speaker from our table and the American got up to make her speech, being careful not to look my way. The silence had been broken. There were stilted whispers drifting back to me from all directions. I couldn't bear to look up and meet any of the stares. I just couldn't.

I could find no reason to stay there.

As I took a step back, Hermione reached out and grasped my wrist. Her fingers were soft. I knew for a fact that her eyes were soft too, but I couldn't make myself look up to meet them. If I did, I would've burst into tears right then and there and it would've all been over for me. I had already lost my friendship with her. I didn't need to lose the little bit of dignity I had left too.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, low enough so only she could here.

Pulling away, I went and climbed the stairs to my room in a dull kind of shock. I left Hermione there to deal with the fall out of the chaos I had helped create. I knew I should've stayed there to face the music with her – it was the least I could do, after all – but I couldn't make myself. I was too much of a coward. In that moment, I knew I was always going to be a coward. There was nothing more to me or my character.

It took me a while to get into my room. My hands were shaking too badly to open the door. It was a relief that I was able to lock it behind me. It was a greater security that I had the sense to wedge it shut with the desk chair. I knew that anyone with a wand could unlock a door, but I didn't think I was important enough for anyone to forcibly blast through it to get to me.

It took me a full minute to even look at the door that connected mine to Hermione's room. When I finally did, the pain was immense. It made the hot tears finally overflow and I was thankful that there was no one there to witness my shame. I felt disgusting so I knew that she would probably think I was disgusting, too. But if by some miracle she didn't, I knew that at the very least she was going to hate me for being a traitor, for ruining something she had worked so hard on.

It took me much longer to lock that door, burying my friendship with her as I did. It had been everything for me this past week, her companionship. Her being there had been everything I had been lacking in my sad and pathetic life. Now I had absolutely nothing. I had less than I had come here with and that was really saying something. I was once again a nobody who had nothing worth living for.

I was worthless.

Theo Nott had been right. This experience might as well have killed me.

It took me a long while to realize that I had nothing to protect myself from her, no extra chair to bar the door with. She probably never wanted to see my face again, but I couldn't take any more chances. I was done taking stupid, unnecessary risks for the rest of my life. In the end, the only thing heavy enough that wasn't bolted into the floor that I could use to block the door was me.

So I sat there in front of that door that had changed everything in my life and I didn't move for anything. Night was upon me before I could blink and plan my next course of action. I wondered if in all that time I had also forgotten to breathe.

That very night, the Bulgarian Minister approved the order to start the building of the barriers around the pureblood encampments, effectively closing out the pureblood population from the Wizarding Quarter of Sofia, Bulgaria.

And that was when the ground opened up and the fires of hell came to greet us mortal souls.

**A/N: And that was when shit got real. :D I wanted to end it on that line, but thought it would be a little too…childish? This is the part where the plot starts moving forward. Please don't forget to review to let me know what you think! And in the meanwhile, here's a spoiler for the next chapter: **

"If I see you in my country after sunrise," he said slowly and firmly, "I will tear you limb from limb and feed you to the dogs."

"Ivan," Hermione said, stopping him as he turned around to leave. "Thank you."

**Unsigned Review: **

**DJK: **Perhaps, but I love hearing it anyway! Thank you for reviewing. : )


	15. Hellraiser Brigade

**A/N: **So here we are. As promised, I am posting this chapter a day early because all hell is about to break loose tomorrow. I hope this chapter makes up for the last – it's certainly a lot more exciting. The chapter title comes from the instrumental "Hellraiser Brigade" by Two Steps From Hell. Give it a listen if you would like.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and gave feedback: Dancing-Souls, Guest, sweetnsour101, kitcatscratch, I love music, lousiethelibrarian, Anonymous, HarryPGinnyW4eva, and ImFeelingThis.

**Rating: RATED T for coarse language and violent situations**

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: HELLRAISER BRIGADE **

When the sun rose to greet the earth with the light of day, I did not rise with it. I simply curled up further into myself and remained still once more. I was not ready to face the music. Not yet. There would be a time and place for that, but that time and place was going to have to wait for me. I had not the energy or the resolve to move.

So I shut my eyes and tried to continue breathing.

My limbs were sore from sitting curled up on the floor for so long. I only realized this when I broke out of my stupor long enough to notice that the sun had set and that there was a commotion going on behind me in Hermione's room. It startled me to hear signs of life blooming in there when it had been dead silent for so long. Acknowledging that I was going to have to move sooner or later and _do _something made me want to break down and cry all over again.

But I didn't. I swear to you, I was done with that weak, humiliating shit if I had any say in the matter.

"Are you sure?" I heard her say. She must have been really close to the door. Her voice was practically in my ear. "Did you check everywhere? Did you go by the pureblood encampments? He said something about there being friendsthere…"

Wait. Was she talking about _me? _

I didn't hear what Davies' response was, but they began to bicker at each other. I couldn't imagine why they would be fighting over the likes of me. Only that Hermione probably had to fire me for what I'd done and she probably had to do it in person. Protocol and all that – she was always a stickler for the rules. Or perhaps the both of them wanted to kill me for the performance I had put on yesterday. _I _wanted to kill me for it, too. It wasn't a big stretch.

They were speaking too quietly for me to hear. Perhaps they had moved away from the door, which was just as well. I really didn't want to have to hear how incompetent Hermione Granger thought I was just then. I wasn't ready. I would be, eventually, but first I had to work up the energy to get up from here and plan a course of action.

Yeah… It sounded like a good thing to do as anything else, but getting up was a lot harder than it seemed.

"_What_?" I suddenly heard Hermione shout. The sound made me cringe. "You're not bloody _exempt _from this Roger! How could you have let him get up and read that? How the _fuck _did you let this happen?"

Great. So they were still talking about me.

"How the hell was I supposed to know what it was? That was not the bloody copy I sent to get fucking approved!" he yelled even louder than she had. I suppose if there was one thing Davies fancied more than Hermione Granger, it was his job. I guess he didn't appreciate my betrayal to the cause being blamed on him. "I swear, if I had known I never would've fucking let him stand up. _Hermione! _Merlin, what do you think you're doing?"

Well. At the very least, I appreciated Davies' sentiment. He didn't have to like me to work with me – we had both been after the same thing: pleasing Hermione. But we had both apparently failed because the muttering and bickering had resumed. Their voices were unintelligible and lilting. I had never been able to sleep through people arguing, but this…this was maybe different.

Maybe I was just exhausted and drained.

Their fight ended with a loud slamming of the door to her room. I didn't hear anything else for hours.

/

When the clock struck midnight, I let out a breath that I wasn't even aware I was holding, almost like a sigh of relief. Hours had passed and Hermione hadn't returned. Breathing deeply made me slightly dizzy and my body thrummed at the thought that I had just avoided a confrontation with her. My blood pumped faster at the thought that Hermione had been that close to me and that if I had only had the decency to open the door, I could've seen her again.

I could've looked upon her once last time before I came up with a plan and left this place forever.

But now she was gone and I had to be gone, too, before she found her way back here. I couldn't bear the sight of disappointment on her face, not while it was surely directed towards me. I don't think my mind could handle it if I looked at her and saw hate in her eyes again. I couldn't return to our school days. That would be the end for me.

And I couldn't let this be the end for me. I had to go on.

I don't know how much time I spent just sitting there and wasting time, but suddenly there was someone turning the knob on the door of my room. I couldn't see it move, it was too dark, but the rattling was unmistakable. There was an uttered expletive and a shove, but the chair did its job and it held. I let out a sigh of relief at that. No one was getting in here. Whoever it was out there on the other side let out a gasp.

And then there was an opening of a door that wasn't mine and a hurrying of footsteps. Suddenly, she was there. I swear I could hear her breathe, even through the door. She tried the handle, tried uttering an unlocking spell, and even tried pushing. It was luckily all to no avail. If she wasn't going to blast the door open, there was no way she was getting in here. I was too strong for her. Physically, I had always been stronger than her.

"Draco," she called out to me pleadingly. A shudder passed through me at the sound of my name on her lips. "Draco, please. Open the door. Let me in."

She sounded choked. I had a strong suspicion that she was crying again and this time it was all because of me. It froze my heart and cracked it a little here and there. I had imagined that she would be furious and angry and that she would go on hating me for the rest of her life. I had never imagined she would be hurt enough to _cry. _I hadn't imagined that I would see her cry again because of me. Bile rose in my throat.

"Goddamnit, Draco!" she shouted to me and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of desperation in her voice. "I know you're in there! Open the door! _Please." _

And I almost did. That she was there and wanted to see me for any reason, made me want to stand up and let her in here, even if that meant that she could see my shame. But I couldn't take the sight of her tears. I knew this. I wouldn't be able to handle it because they were there because of me. So I swallowed my tongue and kept my resolve. I was going to make sure I never caused her any trouble again.

"Just talk to me, Draco," she eventually said, defeated. It really didn't suit her. The dejection made tears well up in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said before I could stop myself. My voice was hoarse and croaky from disuse.

She gasped at the sound of my voice. Maybe all this time she hadn't been sure that I was actually here. The thought made me feel a little bit guilty.

"It's okay," she said immediately, relief colouring her voice. She tried the knob again, tried pushing, but the door didn't budge. I didn't budge. She paused for a minute, considering me. "Are you going to open the door?"

She sounded hopeful and I almost couldn't make myself crush it. But I had to.

"No," I said, after a moment.

"_Why?" _And the desperation was back. "Draco, please. Let me in!"

"_No." _It boggled my mind that she was here at all. I couldn't understand the desperation that was in her voice, couldn't understand why she wanted to be near me after what I had done to her. How could she even bear to be this close to me after how I had _betrayed _her? How could she come to me with tears when she knew they would break me into pieces? "I can't, Hermione."

"But…" And then she sighed. I could practically hear her thinking all the way from here, I just didn't know what. She slid down the door, maybe she leaned against it. I couldn't be sure unless I opened it and that wasn't happening. "Alright. We can do this your way. I'm going to stay right here, okay?"

That made me bristle and sit up a little straighter. "_Why?" _

"Well…" She paused. She probably was chewing on her lip in the way that she did when she was thinking. "You're not ready to talk. I'm going to wait until you are."

"Why on earth would you want to talk to me?" I demanded. Why was she _like _this? Why couldn't she be normal and just hate me like the rest of the world? There had to be a limit to anyone's kindness. I really should've surpassed hers by now. "I ruined everything for you. This whole thing is _ruined. _Do you understand that?"

"It wasn't your fault," she said quietly. Then there was that pesky determination in her voice. "Draco, it really-"

"_Don't. _It was completely my fault. You really don't need to pretend to be kind to me anymore, Hermione." There was a bitterness growing inside me and a dull panic that was telling me to shut up. Both fought with each other and as always, because I am as predictable as they come, the bitterness won. "I'm sorry I ruined things for you, but there isn't anything to talk about."

"We can still-"

"No, we can't," I said, cutting her off. It was incredibly rude, but it was necessary. "I'm… I'm going to pack up my things and I'm going to be gone before morning. It probably isn't a good idea for me to stay here anymore. It wouldn't do you any good. Probably would only take away the little credibility you have left."

And there was my plan. I supposed I had known for a long time that it was going to come to this, probably since the second I had torn open the envelope and read my death sentence to the congregation of diplomats. It had taken talking to Hermione to get the motivation to survive to flood through my veins again. I wasn't sure how she had taken it away from me in a few short weeks, but I wasn't going to let her do this anymore. I was just going to _live _as best as I could instead of going off to die with her.

"Draco-"

"I really am sorry," I said, before she tried to change my mind. And I was sincere about it too. I really _was _sorry with every cell in my being. I was always going to be sorry for almost every word I had ever said to her. "I won't bother you ever again. I swear it."

"Would you just shut up and _listen _to me for one bloody second?" she demanded. And I had to because I had no control over the matter. "There isn't a single-"

I never did find out whatever it was she was going to say, for at that moment there was a loud bang and a searing heat. The windows burst and there was screaming. Or maybe my ears were ringing. Maybe I was going insane. There was glass all over the floor. Some of the furniture that had been bolted to the floor had been overturned. The curtains were on fire. I was on my knees and the curtains were on fucking _fire. _

And then I was getting up as quickly as I could without falling over. I was wrenching open the door and stumbling into Hermione's room. My eyes were a little blurry so I didn't spot her immediately. I saw that her curtains were on fire too, her mattress completely off the bed frame, and her desk in complete splinters. The panic I felt grew until I couldn't breathe. The smoke that was spreading throughout the room – perhaps throughout the entire building – made the breathing bit even more difficult.

She was on the floor, not even three feet from me when I finally spotted her. It was probably seconds but it felt like minutes to me. I pulled her up, trying not to be rough, but I probably failed. There was a cut on her forehead that was bleeding. She was shaking like a leaf. There was panic in her eyes. It took me another second to realize that I had her head in my hands and I was holding her face, staring at her like she was a lifeline.

"Are you okay?" I demanded. I needed to hear her speak. "Are you hurt?"

"Yes," she said, readily enough. She didn't move my hands away from her face. Her own hands were on my chest, gripping my sweater. "You're bleeding."

And I probably was. I think I might've hit my head.

"What's going _on_?" someone said from behind me.

Hermione pulled away then and I was relieved to see that she only swayed for a second before making her way to some of our delegation members that had filed into her room. She did a head count quickly, calming some of them, assuring others. Her eyes kept flitting back to me every so often, watching me lean against the wall. Or maybe she was staring at the magical fire that was burning away at her curtains and not spreading anywhere else. I couldn't be sure. My head was spinning badly.

"Bloody hell," I heard. I didn't need to look up to know that Davies had arrived to the party. "Is everyone okay? The whole building is on fire. There are Aurors everywhere. People are saying we're under _attack. _Hermione-"

Hermione came back towards my direction and began kicking aside the demolished pieces of furniture. I saw her lift her bag over her shoulder.

"Then we need to leave," she said firmly. No one moved. Everyone stared at her as if waiting for further instructions. Leave where? How? Everything's on _fire, _if you didn't notice. There could be attackers out there or whatever the hell is going on. "What are you _waiting _for? Let's go! Move!"

Before we could rally ourselves to do anything but stare at her, there was another explosion. Someone screamed and we all fell down. The floor had shaken with that one, the clock on the wall rattling. The fire spread at licked at Davies skin and he yelled out. Before any of us could even move, there was a loud rattling _boom _and we were tossed again.

And then there were boots in our vision. Someone bent down to pick up the person next to me and she screamed. I realized it was the American. Shortly after I was hauled up too, noticing there were shabbily dressed men in borrowed armor picking us up and herding us towards the burning window. My eyes sought out Hermione immediately and calmed a little when I found her. All I had to do was stay calm.

All I had to do was keep looking at her.

They grumbled in Bulgarian. Maybe they were conferring with each other, not entirely sure what to do now that they had us trapped in a corner between a wand and a hot place (literally). I didn't dare stare at them, though I knew what was going on. These poorly dressed Bulgarian were the pureblood rebels. There was no doubt about it. And as Victor Jr. had warned me, they were here for blood. They were here for blood because of _me. _

I could hear screams from somewhere far off. No one in our group dared speak a word. Hermione seemed to be waiting for something. It seemed like she knew what she was doing, but maybe it was just a façade. No. No. I couldn't doubt her again. I wasn't going to let that seep through me. She was going to get us out of here. She was going to make sure all of us made it this time. This wasn't _our _war. _We _weren't going to have any bloody casualties!

That thought ended when a big burly man entered, bending his head to enter through the doorframe. My breath caught in my throat as our captors turned and saluted this giant of a man. He was taller than Hagrid. He was…

He was my death sentence.

I knew this was the case the second he laid his eyes on me. There was a moment of unspoken communication in which I clearly understood what his stare meant. It said: _when I get my hands on you, and I will, I'm going to choke every single pleasant memory out of your skull and feast on your remains. _I didn't know how he knew who I was. All I knew was he knew what I had done. He was there, holding us all captive, because of me and the betrayal I had committed.

He moved too fast for me to register exactly what was happening, but I was calm. Not because I was a suicidal person, but because there was no time to panic. He had lifted me by my shirt and thrown me backwards against the burning window. I should've been thrown out and plummeted to my death, but there was some kind of barrier – a barrier made out of _fire._ The flames licked up my back and there was a searing hot pain all over my body.

It was _agony. _

"You," was all he said, when I didn't get up. We were all frozen, even Hermione. "We have come all the way here for _you._"

My breath left my body as the giant nodded at two of his men to haul me up again. He wrapped his giant hand around my throat, probably in preparation to throw me to the window again repeatedly. I braced myself for it, I really did. I was no stranger to pain at that point in my life. I knew it was always easier to go through if you accepted it. I was getting ready to be burned to death, agonizingly slow.

But it never happened. When I opened my eyes, Hermione had her hand on the giant, trying to pry his fingers off of my neck. He seemed curious at her gesture and they continued to stare at each other. I wanted to yell at her, tell her to run or do _anything. _Move the fuck away. Can't you see there's a giant here? He could _throw _you like the little rag doll you are. Run!

But instead, all she did was shake her head. "Ivan," she said, her voice steady. "Stop this."

All thoughts of telling her to run flew right out of my head. She knew this giant? How the hell did she know this giant? And since when did giants have names like Ivan? It occurred to me that the panic was making my mind hazy, but it was odd. I wasn't concerned about being thrown against the fire anymore. I was more concerned about Hermione's hand on Ivan's and the fact that they had met before this incident. Ivan seemed like he wasn't the type of guy to listen to anyone's counsel but his own.

"_Stop this? _You vouch for this traitor?" His voice was incredulous. My legs buckled and shook under the pressure he was putting on my neck. But I didn't say anything because… well, I mean, I guess I understood where he was coming from. "He is a traitor to my people! He is a traitor to _you!" _

There really wasn't any denying it. I was. It was all true. I braced myself again to be thrown and when it happened this time, the pain was infinitely worse. I could feel the blistering through my clothes. I wasn't sure if I was on fire, but I was probably disfigured beyond reason by now. I could feel my skin peeling and bubbling and maybe I didn't have skin there anymore at all. I was going to die soon. I could feel it. And I prayed it was soon because the pain was unbearable.

Davies reached down and hauled me up. And then, much to my shock, he stood right in front of me. No matter how much he hated me, Davies stood securely before me, blocking me from the rest of the room. It spoke volumes. It said: if you want to get to him, you're going to have to come through me. The gesture brought tears to my eyes. He didn't even _like _me, but he was putting down his life to protect me.

I wanted to be like him. I wanted to grab onto him and say thank you. I wanted to do a million other things that were inappropriate for the situation, but I couldn't, because Hermione had taken a stand in front of Ivan the giant, blocking him from _all _of us. It made me want to do crazy, irrational things. It made me want to say move aside, just have me. Let her go and you can have at me as much as you fucking want.

"You made a vow to me, Ivan," she was saying. "Are you going to break that vow tonight?"

I cringed at the anger that spread over his face. "Purebloods do not break vows, little dove."

It was the stare off of a century. Hermione wasn't going to move and Ivan didn't want to let us go free. I could see the battle of wills, even from my place against the wall. I could see Ivan calculating his chances. It was obvious what he was here to do tonight. There was a good chance that they were going to take over the government and kill all that opposed them before dawn came. If they managed, they didn't really need Hermione Granger to stand up for their rights. I could see him try to figure out if she was disposable or not.

And I wondered if I could get her out of the way before his giant hands crushed her into pieces. I was expendable. She really was not. He turned his head towards me, then, the cold weight of his glare pinning me to the wall. Davies took a step back closer to me and I could feel one of the other team members put his hand on my burnt shoulder. I didn't shrug it off even though it hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before.

"If I see you in my country after sunrise," he said slowly and firmly, "I will tear you limb from limb and feed you to the dogs."

"Ivan," Hermione said, stopping him as he turned around to leave. "Thank you."

There was a nod and an exchange of words in Bulgarian that I did not understand. I would've had to be blind to miss the respect in the giant's face as he spoke to her. There was something missing there. There was something more to this encounter than I could see – even Hermione Granger wasn't important enough for someone like that to stop murdering. She had something on him, something that he couldn't afford to give up. I just didn't know _what. _

"I saw the Minister go towards the left wing earlier," Hermione said, switching to English as the last of Ivan's minions filed out the door. "I think Krum said something about him having a suite there."

And then there was a sick, brutal smile stretching over Ivan's face. It was a leer that would haunt my dreams for the decades to come.

"Your contribution to the cause is much appreciated," he said with a smack of his lips and a salute.

He left without another word, sauntering after his army. I didn't want to think what was going to come next. There was going to be blood on his hands, on all of their hands, only that blood wasn't going to be mine. There was screaming in the courtyard outside. I think there was screaming in the rooms around us. This was war and I was kidding myself. There were going to be a lot of casualties. There was no us or them. We were all the same and we were all going to bleed. Eventually, we were all going to die.

"Draco." There were hands on my face. "Can you walk?"

Hermione was holding my hand. Everything else in me was numb except for the skin that made contact with hers. The burning in my back subsided. I simply stared at her as she stared back at me. Someone still had their hand on my shoulder, but I ignored that too. Davies was still blocking me from the door. I couldn't even feel the proper gratitude for him because Hermione was still staring at me with her wide eyes and small little frown.

"Is the Minister actually in the left wing?" Davies asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, but they're all going to be headed that way now. We'll have more time to get out of here before they get any wiser. Let's go."

And then she was dragging me along, but I didn't mind. She was brilliant in all her glory.

/

The sky was tinted orange even though it was well past three in the morning. The magical city of Sofia was on fire, the whole town set ablaze. It was a furious burning, consuming everything and everyone that dared stand in its way. I could feel the effects of that fire aching through me as I ran with Hermione and the others through the streets. I realized belatedly that the only reason the hotel hadn't burned to the ground was probably because of some protective charm.

But there were no charms that could save anyone now.

Hermione and Davies navigated us through the streets as quickly and efficiently as they could. I wasn't even sure they knew where they were going. All I knew was it was probably best that we didn't stay in one place. People milled around us, screaming and crying and shouting obscenities. There were several times that some of us almost got separated. It was slow going. The American was in hysterics, one of the others was limping, and I… well, I don't know how I was moving at all.

Before we even made out of the lavishness of the center of the Wizarding Quarter, the Bulgarian National Defense Forces had arrived. There were squadrons upon squadrons of Bulgarian hit wizards dressed in all black battle armor, wands drawn and at the ready. The burning city was their backdrop and the spells they shot into the crowd was our cue.

Hermione had her hand in mine again when the rebel forces showed up to make their standoff.

And then the sky was lit up green and red, too. I would've stood there and gazed upon the medley of colours if Hermione hadn't dragged me along with her, jarring me out of the madness. There was blood on the streets. Worse, there were the bodies that produced the red rivers, too. All of it lay before us as we tried to escape the chaos. The fire only burned brighter, lighting our way for us. The heat of it made me sting. Hermione's hand never left mine.

I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to stare at any of it, but my eyes were screwed open and I stared on as we stumbled along like lost little sheep. I may have been crying. The salt of it stung at my wounds, but there was nothing more to it. My back burned and my bones ached, but worse of all my soul stung with the sight of humans fighting other humans. Like on like.

In the end, all of their blood was red when it spilled.

We were in an alleyway when the blazing building next to us collapsed in on itself, nearly burying us in its rubble. There was a sharp exclamation and a scream. There was even a grunt of pain. But what I remember most clearly was Hermione's hand pulling me quickly out of the way of collapsing rock. She gripped my arm tightly to her as if to ascertain that I was still there and not crushed under the weight of burning rubble.

"Hermione!" I heard the scream. "Merlin, _Hermione! _Are you alright? Can you hear us?"

"We're okay over here," she shouted back. "What about you? Everyone okay?"

The rubble had created a wall in between us and the rest of the group. Hermione had been leading and she had been dragging me along with her. If she hadn't pulled, I probably would've been crushed. This marked the second time she had saved my life that night. She kept me close to her from that point on, maybe because there was no one with us left to see. Or maybe she was afraid if she let go, I'd walk into another precarious trap that maybe she couldn't save me from.

"Listen, we have to Apparate," she was shouting. "There's no other way, Roger! They're going to be shutting down the borders soon and it's going to be hell trying to get through."

There was some muffled yelling that I couldn't make out over the pounding in my head, but Hermione was listening attentively. I felt a little faint to be honest. I wondered if I passed out, if Hermione would leave me in a safe place or just continue dragging my body along with her. I couldn't help but stare at her and appreciate how brilliant she looked then, even with her bruises and cuts and ripped clothes. The sight of her made me grip her hand a little tighter.

"If we don't go now, we'll be stuck!" Hermione shouted back, clearly starting to get frustrated. "The Minister had plans to put anti-Apparation wards all over the city. They might even be in effect now!"

Well, shit.

"Go!" Davies was shouting. "Hermione, we'll just meet you there."

And then there were distinct pops of Apparation just on the other side of the rubble wall. I wondered briefly if there had been people in that building before it had collapsed and, if so, were they buried in this rubble? Hermione held her other hand out to me, silently asking me if I was going to be okay, if I could manage this extreme Apparation.

I had to shake my head. "I can't go."

"We have to try," she insisted, her eyes fierce and bright. I had to force myself to swallow at the sight of it. "I'll take you right to St. Mungos after, alright? You'll be okay. I _promise, _Draco. I won't let anything happen to you."

"It's not that," I said slowly. "I… um. I'm on an Apparation ban. If I try it, I'll get splinched."

Her eyes widened. "Even side-along?"

"Yeah…" I nodded, letting go of her hand. "It's okay. You go. I'll… I'll meet you back at the Ministry when I can."

She was silent for a whole minute, the sounds of chaos and war growing more desperate around us. I couldn't really decipher the look on her face just then. It was incredulous and soft and maddeningly beautiful all at once. She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time, like everything that had happened in the past with us just didn't matter. I felt like I was something new.

"You are one crazy man, Draco Malfoy," she said to me slowly. "I will _never _leave you to die, do you hear me?"

She didn't wait for me to affirm that I had heard her or not. She just took my hand and continued our trek. We ran through the streets of Sofia, running for our lives. I barely even registered the pain that that throbbed through my body.

She never let go of me once, just like she promised.

**A/N: I've written an exceptionally long note for you guys on my profile explaining what's going on in my life and the future of this story. Read it if you'd like to! I appreciate all of your support. **

**Until next week, here is the usual spoiler: **

She laughed prettily, shoving me slightly. "Are you always so cheerful after near death experiences?"

"No," I replied honestly, not bothering to open my eyes to stare at her. "Only with you."

**Unsigned Reviews: **

**Guest: **I'm sorry you found the last chapter idiotic, but I do appreciate you being critical. I would like to explain my thought process to you, if you would allow me.

I would like to direct you to revisit Chapter 8 if you can (it will be labelled as chapter 9 because of the prologue) and refer to the scene in which Hermione is explaining what Draco's task in Bulgaria will be. She mentions that he will have to make a speech, which Roger Davies was going to write for him. Draco always knew that he was going to have to possibly make a speech. It was part of his job description. This is why he stood up and did what he did.

So, why did he continue reading when he figured out what was going on? There are a multitude of reasons, I suppose, but it all boils down to him feeling like he had to and that he had no choice but to keep on reading. Roger wrote the speech for him to read, so it was his job to read it. The official stamp on the letter was from the Minister's office and Draco, recognizing his precarious position in British Society, felt like if he didn't go through with what the Ministry wanted, would end up in Azkaban or worse. Whether any of these things were true in reality or not is irrelevant. The point was that he felt like he had to read it in order to maintain any sort of lifestyle in the event that he returns home to England. I'm not quite sure I understand your last question.

Thank you again for your review. If you are still confused, have any other feedback, have further questions, or just feel like talking, don't hesitate to PM me! Have a lovely week.

**Anonymous: **Thank you! You're very kind and I'm glad you're enjoying thus far. As we both can agree now, this situation has only worsened. Thank you for reviewing!


	16. It Matters To Me

**A/N: **Wow. Just wow. The PM's and reviews I received in the last chapter blew my mind away. Thank you for being so understanding and supportive, even if my note to you was so long winded. You've brought me to tears.

Thank you especially to the reviewers: sierraemilie, buttercup88, HarryPGinnyW4eva, Lady Moonglow, RolledupinOne, irze, I love music, and Mistress-Cinder.

Another early chapter because 9 AM classes just suck. They suck brutally.

**Rated T for Violent Situations. **

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: IT MATTERS TO ME**

My body aches something fierce and wild. I tremble and each step is a jolting, searing pain throughout me. It makes me sway. The world tilts before me every so often and I threaten to tip over, collapse, and be done with this madness altogether. Every smooth stone, every empty doorstep I see looks like a good place to sit down and just take a nap. But Hermione's hand grips mine firmly and she propels me forward, never letting me fall.

I don't think either of us knows where we're going. We do know that stopping is certain death. War has shown us both this truth and it is a rule that must be obeyed if you have plans to make it out alive. Run for your lives before I claim you, it says. If you stop to fall, you're never going to get up again.

But Merlin, breathing is a pain. My wounds are festering.

I don't even think about stopping or complaining, though. At that time I lacked the capacity for something so childish. Smoke filled the air and violent screams and explosions accompanied the acrid smell. The night sky was lit up brightly. I fancied that Ivan and his army had torn the heavens apart and the blood of angels was no raining down upon us.

When I saw the dull panic of a child clutching the lifeless body of a woman in the street, I thought maybe Ivan had opened up the ground too and demons danced with us tonight. Tears were streaming down Hermione's face as we made our way. I think I was much too shocked to the core to cry about anything at all. A kind of numbness filled me, masking the dull ache in the pit of my belly. Dizziness took care of the rest.

Maybe I had run out of tears to cry forever.

And then suddenly we were in a square. It was all so very familiar, even though it was dark now and people were hurrying past us, not stupid enough to stop. I stood still though, trying to clear my mind, trying to figure out exactly where I stood. Hermione was pulling at my hand, begging me to keep going. The fires hadn't spread this far, but they were coming and these shabby homes stood no chance against them.

They were too worn down and decrepit. We had reached the centre of the pureblood encampment.

"Draco," Hermione said directly in my ear. Her proximity made me feel a little bit alive. "I'm sorry, but we _really _need to keep moving. I swear, as soon as I find us a safe place I'll-"

_You'll what? _I wanted to ask. I briefly felt a flash of amusement.

"You don't know where you're going," I cut her off, only staring at her long enough to see her stiffen and maybe be slightly taken aback. "I just need to find…where did he turn?"

She didn't say anything, only gripped my arm as I turned about to find the alley I was so desperately looking for. She became my balance and I think I saw an unrestrained interest in her eyes as she looked upon me, kept me steady. I tried to think fast, but this was messing with my head. She trusted me enough to stop here in the middle of a bloody war. She hadn't even asked questions, just pushed away her safety as if I was going to take care of her.

It was like we were on the floor of her hotel room all over again, me protecting her from rain and bad memories.

Without daylight and no burning buildings about, it took me a lot longer to find the alley that Victor Sr. had barred me going down from – the rebel stronghold. Had it only been a week? It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Everything was different. I was a whole new person. When I found the direction I was supposed to go Hermione let me lead, trusting my judgment and holding onto me so I wouldn't fall.

Her trust in me at that moment made me even dizzier than I already was. I wanted to say thank you for all of this, but I didn't have the breath in my body necessary to speak words like that. They were too full of meaning. I felt like she had my heart in her hands and she was squeezing it as tightly as she was squeezing my arm. I prayed she wouldn't let go.

"Where are we going?" she eventually asked me as we passed through the littered alleyways of the pureblood encampments.

"My friends… they uh. They have a house here somewhere if I can just find it. Maybe they can help us," I said. The idea sounded weak to my own ears when I voiced it out loud like that, but Hermione didn't say anything else.

She didn't even have a look of doubt on her face. It made my heart swell just a little more. _Squeeze a little tighter, _I silently told her and pretended like she did.

I began to lose confidence though, as we moved on. I was fairly sure we were going in the right direction. I remembered that stopped roof there and the broken windows to the left when Victor Sr. had walked me to his home last week. But the whole place was deserted as we walked through. It appeared that everyone who had ever lived here had abandoned their shabby homes and had made a run for it when the rebels had attacked.

Maybe they had known the fires would be coming this way or perhaps they felt that their side was the losing side. They probably didn't want to be around when the wrath of the Ministry inevitably descended upon them. Either way, the streets were close to empty, doors left open, and belongings that couldn't be carried left behind on the dirty streets. I saw a shoe and a dusty old teddy bear discarded into the dirt.

The one or two people that passed us hurried away and didn't dare meet our eyes. They didn't even look in our direction. My confidence plummeted even lower.

And then deep despair spread through me. Maybe we had already missed our chance and Victor Jr. had already left with his family. What's more, maybe he wouldn't _want _to help me after what I had done. That made me want to stop and wretch, but I couldn't. We didn't have time for theatrics like that. Hermione had trusted me and I needed to get the both of us out of here one way or another.

I couldn't let her forfeit that trust so soon after it had been freely given.

So I put away those thoughts for a second and trudged along. Hermione came willingly, catching me every time I tripped or stumbled. Her trust was blind and it made me consider what else we could do if this didn't work out. Could we cross the borders without being noticed? By now the anti-apparation wards would have been put into place if Hermione's information had been solid – and it usually was. She was stuck here now with me, _because _of me. It was my job to ensure she got out of here.

A thought suddenly popped into my head. "Do you know where Krum is?" I asked her. "Maybe we can get to him."

She faltered as if she was only just thinking about her friend for the first time that night. "He left for his country house yesterday evening…" she said slowly, tasting the words. "He was supposed to leave for England this morning for a meeting, but…"

"Too coincidental?" I asked. She nodded, biting her lip. It was her signature _I'm worried _look. "I'm sure he's fine," I reassured. _He's too valuable, _I wanted to say. "He's a tough guy."

Well, there went that plan.

I didn't have the energy to say much else. Everything in me was concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. I thought that maybe I could smell the beginnings of acrid smoke and that made me begin to panic. If the fire spread here, we would be goners. We would burn to death if we didn't suffocate from the smoke first. The buildings were too fragile and the streets were too narrow. If we didn't outrun it, there would be no escape.

But nothing looked familiar anymore. The buildings didn't have recognizable shapes and there were no tell tale markers that triggered my memory. I was sure I had never been here before. Perhaps we had taken a wrong turn somewhere, but when I tried to backtrack, everything looked much the same.

We were lost. The pureblood encampments were like a maze and we were well and truly lost. There was no one around to guide us out of here. We were lost and the _fire was coming. _

A blinding panic was burning through me when I heard my name being shouted from ahead.

"Ingrid!" I exclaimed when my eyes focused and I saw her rushing towards us. Relief was flooding through me. At the very least, if she didn't know how to get out of the country, she'd know how to get out of this bloody maze. "Where is your father?"

"I don't know," she cried, hugging me to her briefly. "He went to look for mother hours ago. She was with the Antovs when it started… he told us to stay here. What's going on, Draco?"

She asked me like it was my job to tell her, not like it was my fault that it was happening.

"The rebels have set everything on fire and the hit wizards have come to defend the city," I said. I may have sounded like a raving lunatic because her eyes widened. I shook my head, trying to focus, trying to only talk about the relevant stuff. "Where is your brother?"

"Over here," came a voice from behind us. I turned to see a grim faced Victor Jr. approaching us. "I couldn't find father anywhere." He embraced me too when he reached us and I cringed when he patted my back. His eyes narrowed when his hand came away sticky with blood. "You're hurt."

I nodded. "There's no time. We have to go."

"But…what about mother and father?" Ingrid asked, her voice small and shaking. She was clutching her brother's arm desperately, looking at me as if I had all the answers in the world for her. "How will we find them?"

"We can figure that out later," I said. "We have to get out of the city. There's a fire blazing and we can't be here when it comes."

"Or the fighters," Hermione added. Everyone looked upon her then and the grim set of her mouth. She didn't need to be introduced. Everyone always knew exactly who she was. "If they find us, we'll probably be executed."

"Yes," Victor Jr. agreed, his voice serious. I only then noticed how singed his clothes were. Where exactly had he gone to look for his parents? What had he seen? Had he seen what we'd seen? His eyes seemed haunted, too. "Everyone is out for blood tonight."

And with that being said, the Bulgarian boy stepped forward and took the lead of our small party, guiding us out of the abandoned streets of the pureblood encampments. We went on for hours and hours, not stopping once to rest. Several times, Ingrid and Victor Jr. tried apparating, but Hermione had been right. The anti-apparation wards had been applied and held strong. Still, we continued moving, afraid if we stopped that that would be the end of us. Soon, we were out of the city and trekking through dense forests, our shoes becoming bogged down with wet mud.

That was the last time I ever saw the city of Sofia.

/

We walked for hours. We walked so long, the sky turned from a black to a deep navy. The birds of night went to sleep and the birds of day sprung to life around us. And still we walked on, drearily as we had no energy to pick up our feet. We didn't say anything, too afraid to be caught, too afraid to break the silence. If the silence was broken, everything would become real.

And I desperately wanted to believe that the burning lights of the fire and evil curses seared into my retinas were all just a really bad dream. Hermione still held onto my hand. Ingrid clutched at the other. Both girls didn't acknowledge the other's presence, though I supposed there was no reason for that to occur. Victor led us forward, tying me to his belt with a scarf so I wouldn't get lost or something.

Somehow I felt like it was so he knew when I would stumble or collapse, so he could stop or slow down if need be. Maybe he just wanted to be included. How should I know?

Eventually we began an uphill ascent. Victor Jr. quietly assured us that we weren't going to be climbing any mountains, but I didn't pay him any mind. There was too loud of a pounding in my ears. I couldn't have paid attention to him if I tried. My breaths began to come in short gasps from the exertion of climbing up a slope and my vision swam until it was all just a vibrant red.

The next thing I knew, I was faced down on the forest floor, inhaling dirt and leaves and god knows what else.

Ingrid was exclaiming something in Bulgarian, Victor Jr. was probably trying to get her to shut the hell up, and Hermione was kneeling next to me. I could see her face from the awkward angle my head was turned – if only I could get my eyes to stay open long enough to keep her in focus. Her hands were on my face and neck. I think she was checking to see if I was still breathing.

"Draco?" she whispered, bending down so her lips were right next to my ear. It sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the pain. "Do you think you can get up?"

Her voice was so soft, softer than the blankets back at the hotel. I wondered randomly if Hermione had thought to steal one of them before we'd left so we wouldn't get cold at night. It wasn't like they were going to be missing a blanket in all of this mess. Hermione began to tug on my arm then and I really tried to lift myself up with her help. I really did try.

Nothing happened. I just flopped uselessly back onto the ground.

"I think we need to stop," Hermione was saying to the others. They were agreeing, making plans and all that to stop for a few hours. Hermione was cradling my head. She had caught it when I was in the process of falling uselessly back to the ground. "We need to get up, Draco. Is that okay? Then you can rest as much as you want."

"I'm going to take a nap," I murmured against her wrist.

"You can take a nap, yes," she said, slightly relieved I was talking back to her. "We just need to move off the path so no one finds us. Okay?"

She waited for me to lift myself up, but it wasn't going to happen. "I'm going to take a nap right here."

She was laughing then, quietly and only for me. Her thumb stroked my cheek and for a second I was glad that despite everything else, she found me amusing enough to laugh. It made me smile involuntarily, even though smiling hurt like a bitch. I think my face was bruised. I might have imagined it, but I think she brushed her fingers over my smiling lips. I don't care. I'm going to pretend for sure that it happened.

And then the moment was over because she and Victor grabbed me under my arms and hauled me up, dragging me along. It was disorienting and a blinding pain. I may have whined and moaned like a little baby, but I think the situation warranted it. Ingrid was clearing the path as best as she could as they dragged me as far as they dared in my condition. I couldn't even lift my legs to help them.

When they laid me down again, Ingrid caught me and laid me down halfway onto her. She was soft and warm and still smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon underneath all the sweat. I groaned at the pleasantness of it. I think I may have heard Hermione huff somewhere above me.

"Alright," she said. "Time to take a look at this back."

"Just don't grope me, Granger," I slurred, holding Ingrid like a pillow while Hermione got rid of my shirt. She had been laughing at my joke, but when the clothes were peeled away, she gasped. Ingrid stiffened and cringed. "That bad, huh?"

"Why didn't you stop us _earlier_?" she demanded. I could hear her rummaging furiously through her never ending bag, hurrying now that she realized my injuries were closer to critical than she had anticipated.

"Didn't fancy being killed by a Bulgarian," I mumbled against Ingrid's neck.

She snorted this time and I was glad that her humor was back. She was muttering spells and applying some kind of a thick goopy salve to my burns and telling the Bulgarians to hold me down. I belatedly realized this was because I was thrashing around and screaming bloody murderer at the top of my lungs. Victor had to replace his sister underneath me as she was too weak to brace me through the ordeal.

It was too bad. He didn't smell or feel nearly as nice as his sister.

I couldn't tell you how long it took, only that my face was sticky with snot and tears and who knows what else by the time Hermione was done with me. Compared to what she had been doing to heal my burns, the scrapes and bruises on the rest of my body was a breeze. I didn't even fidget as she ran her wand over me. I was too exhausted, even though it was distinctly uncomfortable.

"I know of a poultice that could help the rawness," Ingrid whispered a while later. She was clutching at my hand and I let her because I was too tired to move my fingers. "The herbs shouldn't be too hard to find. Do you have any dittany?"

Hermione must have had some because Ingrid was moving away, Victor stomping off behind her. When they were gone, Hermione lifted my head into her lap like Ingrid had earlier. She brushed my sweaty hair off of my face and sighed, tracing her fingers over my cheek and jaw. I wondered why she was doing this. I wondered if this was another pity party.

"Don't scare me like that again," she quietly demanded. "You could have died."

I was too tired to shrug. "We would've died if you'd stopped to do anything about it. It doesn't matter."

She didn't say anything for a long while, so long that I thought she might have fallen asleep on me. The sun was fully up in the sky now and the air was sweet. I was glad it wasn't raining and that I was still here with her. Here, practically sleeping in her lap with her hands in my hair. It was perfect. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was glad I hadn't run away when I'd had the chance.

Then, "It matters to me."

"Why?" I asked sleepily, snuggling closer to her for warmth.

"Because you could have _died_," she said, her voice too serious for such a beautiful day.

"I'm not," I reminded her, yawning. "God, if I knew you were so into me back in school, I wouldn't have been so mean to you."

She laughed prettily, shoving me slightly. "Are you always so cheerful after near death experiences?"

"No," I replied honestly, not bothering to open my eyes to stare at her. "Only with you."

I was asleep before she could compose herself enough to reply.

/

I woke with a jolt and a gasp, struggling against bindings that weren't there. It was just a soft body, a pair of arms, and the glow of a full moon filtering through the trees. It took me embarrassingly long to find my bearings, but I suppose a bloke's got to have a slow moment here and there once in a while. I didn't know why I felt the need to gasp for air. The sky was clear. Oxygen was plentiful.

When I sat up, the soft arms fell from my body as did a blanket.

My bleary eyes made out the shape of Hermione, fast asleep against a tree. I realized that I must've been using her body as a pillow and that she had _let _me, had even held me to her. It made my cheeks flush. Thankfully it was night time and no one was looking at me, so I could go right on ahead and pretend like this had never happened. I may have stared at her sleeping form for an embarrassingly long time.

"She refused to move from your side all day, you know," came a quiet voice from behind me.

I jumped, startled right out of my skin when I spotted Victor Jr. staring at me. It was only then that I noticed that I wasn't wearing a shirt, only a pair of really worn trousers. Memories began to flit back to me at random and I gasped. Perhaps she had been right, I _was_ awfully slow in the mornings. Instinctively, I tried to crane my head around to catch a glimpse of my back. When that failed, I made do with reaching around and touching. It felt a bit sticky and sore, but that was about it.

"Yeah, the girls worked on repairing your skin all day," Victor commented, apparently amused with my sluggish mind. "They only just fell asleep a few hours ago. I got the night watch."

"I'm sorry," I immediately responded.

Victor shrugged. "You needed the rest."

He didn't say anything else, just stared creepily at me. For a while I stared back too. It wasn't like a staring contest or anything. I think he was just curious. I was still trying to get my mind to work full speed, figuring out what the hell was going on, where we were, and what we were going to _do. _Thoughts of escaping were all great when you were being chased by killers and a raging fire, but once you were out what were you supposed to do?

Hermione shifted next to me, groaning slightly and rubbing at her arms. I realized that I had taken the blanket away with me when I'd sat up. Immediately, I pulled it around her shoulders, trying to get her to not wake up, but she shifted and struggled with me anyway. I figured sleeping on the ground against a tree probably wasn't what she was used to. Sighing, I moved her to lie against me. She curled up against me immediately like the cuddle monster that she was. There was even a contented smile on her face.

"You really love her, don't you?"

"_What_?" My voice was sharp and incredulous. She'd saved my life and she wasn't the same know it all from Hogwarts, but who the hell had said anything about love? "Of course not! I… No. I don't."

Victor chuckled and I immediately wanted to slap him. "It's alright. You don't have to say it. I can see it, though. You look at her like she's the only thing worth living for."

What was I supposed to say to that? Yes? I mean, it was obvious. Hermione Granger was something fierce and yeah, if she asked nicely I would probably do anything she asked of me. But that wasn't _love _or all that mushy stuff. It was just… She was just my friend. Like Theo. Yeah, Theo and I were friends and there was no _love _involved there, either.

_But is she like Theo? _A little voice in my head asked. _Do you think about Theo like you think about her? _

I told myself to shut up and glared at the other man. "I _don't. _I can't. People like me don't go for people like…her."

"I know," was all he said. And I think he got it because he and I were almost the same. He knew what it was like for me. "There's probably nothing you can do about it, though."

_Nothing at all_, I agreed silently_._ The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth and I couldn't figure out why. We didn't say anything after that for a long while. I listened to Hermione breathe and the other noises of the forest. I thought about her skin and her hand holding mine. I thought about the way she had held on to me today like she cared. And I realized that maybe she did, in the way that she cared about everything and everyone.

_I will never leave you to die, _she'd said. _It matters to me. _

"I'm sorry," I said to him eventually. He looked up at me curiously. "We're here because of me. If I hadn't stood up and read that awful speech condemning the whole lot of us, we probably wouldn't be here."

"Perhaps," he responded slowly, carefully. He was obviously constructing his expression to purposely look neutral. It was all for my benefit. "If it hadn't been you, then it would've been something else."

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He just shrugged, his eyes hard. "It was always going to happen, Draco, whether you had anything to do with it or not. The Minister would've come up with another excuse to build those barriers. They've been waiting and planning it for months. It wasn't your fault."

His forgiveness moved me, made my heart clench and my throat close up. "That doesn't make me feel any better," I said in a whisper.

"It's not supposed to," he responded with a sad smile. "If you didn't feel remorse for the bad things in life, you wouldn't be worth running away with."

I couldn't speak then. I couldn't even meet his stare, though it was kind and forgiving and everything that I should've leapt on like a hungry leper. Next to Hermione, he was the kindest person I'd ever met. He was everything that I should've been had I not been so bloody _lost _in my life. I wondered what it was that was so flawed in me, what I was missing. Why couldn't I be like him and forgive the world for being what it was? Why couldn't I be as kind as Hermione and live for the service of others? Why couldn't I be like Davies and stand up for what was right, regardless of everything I felt?

Hermione shifted closer to me, snuggling her face into my bare torso and I gasped. I may have shuddered enough that a small frown grew on her face. It made me force myself to be still, to run my fingers through her hair and over her arm so that she could easily fall back asleep. I even slowed my breathing so she wouldn't be disrupted.

Victor watched all of it. He was grinning at me. Our serious moment was obviously over.

"I _don't _love her, you prick," I hissed as quietly as I could without jostling the sleeping girl in my arms. "It's not like that. She and I… we just go way back, not that all of it was good."

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," he responded with a smirk. I glared at him. "Why don't you get some sleep?" he offered. When I was about to decline he raised up a hand in surrender. "I won't say anything to anyone about any of it. Go to sleep, you still look like shit. I'll let you take the first watch tomorrow."

"_Thanks," _I muttered sarcastically. He only smiled back.

I wondered if this is what it was really like to have friends. I wondered if he and Ingrid would let me stick with them after I got Hermione back home. The thought of leaving her anywhere made my heart ache, but I had to be honest with myself. She had a life to get back to, a job, and friends. I had nothing left for me back there. I didn't love her and she didn't love me, _obviously. _So there was nothing more to it. I could just ignore the rest of it.

When Hermione mumbled something unintelligible against my chest, I smiled at the sweetness of it. Pressing my face into her hair, I let myself drift off to sleep once more.

**A/N: So we're officially on to the second half of the plot. I'm not sure if the second half of the story will be longer than the first half, but there's a good possibility that this is the case. Thank you again for all of your support and understanding with the updating schedule. **

**Until next time: **

"_You _look better." My head snapped up and I saw Hermione staring down at me accusingly. My heart sped up at the way she looked just then. The sun lit up her messy hair, her skin was glowing, and her annoyed little face looked absolutely beautiful. She was almost glaring at Ingrid and I, staring at our clasped hands. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I had done wrong, though. "I see you chose to get cozy instead of waking me up."

**Unsigned Reviews: **

**Irze: **I hope the escape was satisfactory! But don't worry, it's not the nearly the end of it all yet. Your hopes for the future are spot on. I think this is kind of a wink wink nudge nudge kind of moment! Thank you for reviewing.


	17. Reality is a Harsh Thing

**A/N: **Hello again lovely people. I apologize for skipping over the past couple of weeks, but I've just been in a process of adjusting. I hope I find you all well and happy. Thank you for being patient with me.

I'm sorry I haven't responded to any of your reviews or PMs, but the love you guys have sent me has been entirely overwhelming. I don't know how to say thank you enough. Please accept my most sincere thanks and my apologies – I'm not ignoring you, I swear. It's just been a whirlwind.

The new school is going great – thank you all for asking.

Can't say I'm all that pleased with this chapter, but I figured I've held back for long enough. I hope you enjoy. Please excuse any and all spelling/grammar/errors of any kind.

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: REALITY IS A HARSH THING**

It felt like the first time in a long time that I woke up at a time my body was familiar with. Half past five saw the skies turning blue, preparing for sunrise. I prepared to get up with it. Today was going to undoubtedly be a day of planning and I just knew I was going to have to prepare myself for it. I didn't want to let Hermione catch me unawares again.

I was trying to prevent the inevitable, I know, but try I did.

Somehow, we had lain down flat together on the cold forest ground and, as a result, we were both slightly damp. She was still asleep beside me, her head pressed to my chest and her arm securely over my stomach. Mine were still around her, holding her to me. It's a wonder I didn't have a heart attack right there from the novelty of it all. She was warm and none of it was meant for me.

It was with a lot of pain that I extracted myself slowly from her grasp, trying my best not to wake her up. First, because I was still incredibly sore and second, because letting her go now like this was my best attempt at a goodbye. I couldn't let myself continue to be enamored with her when I knew as soon as we all woke up, we were going to plan our separate ways and be done with it all forever. Hermione Granger and I were never meant to be friends.

There was no use delaying the inevitable. It only ever caused more grief than was necessary.

I had to make myself tear my eyes away from her.

With a deep breath, I got up and dusted my pants off. I wasn't sure what Hermione had done with my shirt, so for the moment I was going to have to do without. It was when I made to stretch that I saw Ingrid sitting up against a tree and staring at me. Perhaps she had been staring at me that whole time as I'd made myself separate from Hermione.

The thought brought a flush of embarrassment to my cheeks and I stood there, completely frozen. We stared at each other for a split second as images of her trying to hold me down as I writhed in pain yesterday flashed through my mind. Involuntarily, I could feel myself reddening further. It seemed like forever had passed when her face finally broke into a smile and she patted the spot next to her, beckoning me to her.

I went because any other course of action looked too socially awkward to commit to.

"It's nice to see you up and about," she said lightly, offering me part of her blanket. I settled in next to her thankfully because Bulgarian mornings were _cold. _"How are you feeling now?"

"Sore," I answered honestly. Something in her made me want to always be honest, but the frown on her face was too much, I thought. "Better. A lot better."

"That's good news," she said with a smile. "Here, let me get you something to eat. You must be starving."

I wasn't just hungry, I was ravenous. I realized then that I hadn't eaten since breakfast before the conference on Monday. I had missed too many meals to count. It wasn't like I hadn't gone longer without food and I should've probably been used to it by now, but over a week of three square meals a day, my stomach had gotten used to being filled.

I vowed to remedy that as Ingrid walked over to me with a steaming cup of tea and a bowl of what looked like instant porridge. I downed it thankfully with a smile of gratitude. I _would _fix this dependency, but after this meal last full meal.

Ingrid was watching me again while I ate. It was slightly unnerving, as if she expected me to pass out or get up and start screaming in pain or something. But I was too hungry at the moment to even bother with feeling self-conscious. It was an odd thing, really. I had felt comfortable around her from the moment I had met her. She wasn't like Astoria. She wasn't even like Hermione.

She was bright and as caring as a honey bee.

Bees took care of their own my mother had once explained when I was six. I didn't know much about Ingrid, but this much was obvious. She cared about her family with every ounce of her being and took care of them with all of her heart. Nothing was more important to her, not her work or her country or even her fellow purebloods and their cause.

When she wordlessly got up to refill my bowl, I realized that all this was her way of showing me I was part of her family now, if I wanted to be. The thought made me choke up a little and brought a few tears to my eyes, but I really couldn't afford to lose it so early in the day. Not on such an important day as this. So I shook my head, swallowed it back, and stared at her instead.

"Where did you get all of this?" I asked, curiosity helping get rid of my emotion better than the piteous attempts at self-control.

"Ms. Granger had it all in her bag," Ingrid whispered as she handed me the bowl. She said her name reverently, seriously, as if Hermione was her idol and she was going to worship the woman. The thought brought a smile to my face. I remembered the first time I had ever met Ingrid and how she had spoken of Hermione then. "She came very prepared. I didn't even pack a bag and she has _cutlery._"

Yeah, that sure did sound like Hermione Granger. Overzealous and over prepared.

"I heard what you said to Victor last night," Ingrid said, looking at me briefly before taking my bowl and cleaning it with her wand.

"Oh…" There was nothing much I could say to that, not much else I could do but freeze and be embarrassed in front of this relative stranger. Thankfully she wasn't looking me in the eye. "Well… I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"You were wrong, you know," she said, looking at me sharply. "It wasn't your fault."

"But-"

"No, Draco," she stopped me, sitting before me then and forcing me to look up at her. "What you had to do, what they put you through, was horrible. It wasn't your fault. You stood up and stood through it anyway. You were very, very brave."

"_Brave_?" I asked her, aghast. "How can you say that? How can you say that when we're here and you don't even know where your parents are?"

"Victor was right. It was going to happen anyway," she said without even cringing. She knelt closer, holding my head between her hands and smiled at me. There were tears in her eyes. "I will find my parents, Draco. And you did what you had to do, even though it hurt you. I can see how much it's hurt you."

I nodded. "Thank you."

Her smile was slightly less sad when she nodded back at me. "Hermione told us what Ivan did to you. It was _wrong. _I hope you don't think we all think of you that way… I don't. When my father found out what they made you do, he was aghast. He was so sad. We wanted to come see you, but it wasn't a good idea at the time."

She was sitting next to me then, clasping my hand in both of hers and smiling softly at me. There was a weight on my chest that suddenly disappeared with that stare, a weight that Victor hadn't been able to lift last night with his kind words. In that moment, she reminded me so much of my mother before the war, before Hogwarts, before my father gave me the time of day. She was kind, gentle, and untainted.

I cleared my throat, pushing back the emotions that threated to consume me. "I hope we find your father soon."

"Will you come with us to search? To help?" she asked. Her expression was hopeful, unguarded. No one had ever looked at me so openly before. "We could stay together after we cross the border."

"Of course," I answered immediately, without even pausing to think of anything else. How could I refuse her when it was my plan to never leave them again if they would just let me stay? "Where will we look?"

"My father said if we ever got separated, we should make our way north to Romania," she said, clasping my hand tighter in anticipation and hope. "We have family there. Maybe mother and father are already there, waiting for us."

"I can't wait to meet them, then," I said with a smile. She smiled back.

And I really couldn't wait. Now that she'd said it, Romania wasn't such a bad place to go if we could get over the border.

There hadn't been much of a movement there. Romanians hadn't really taken to the idea of Voldemort or blood purity. He had apparently pissed off the vampire community and, as a show of support, the country had steadfastly ignored the despot's influence. As a result, no one really gave a damn about purebloods or muggleborns respectively. Hermione had said it was pretty much happy-happy there.

Unlike back home or even here in Bulgaria, if you wanted to be in power she'd said you pretty much just had to win over the vampire elders. The rest came with their approval, apparently. It was a different kind of blood politics entirely, I thought with a grim smile. But I was willing to try it.

"_You _look better." My head snapped up and I saw Hermione staring down at me accusingly. My heart sped up at the way she looked just then. The sun lit up her messy hair, her skin was glowing, and her annoyed little face looked absolutely beautiful. She was almost glaring at Ingrid and I, staring at our clasped hands. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I had done wrong, though. "I see you chose to get cozy instead of waking me up."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, untangling myself from Ingrid's blanket and standing up to face her. "I didn't want to wake you. We had a long day yesterday."

Her expression softened as she looked at me, her annoyance forgotten. It was a relief. "_Are _you feeling better?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I'd be better if you gave me my shirt back though."

"Oh!" Ingrid exclaimed from behind me, jumping up with an eager smile. "I fixed it for you yesterday. It's almost as good as new."

"Thank you," I offered slowly, noting the annoyed expression growing back on Hermione's face. I wondered what was up with her and if Ingrid had maybe stepped on her toes yesterday when I'd been asleep. "Uh… I'll just-"

"_I'm _going to go scout out the area ahead to make sure it's safe," Hermione said with a huff. I wondered if maybe I was the problem here and that maybe I _had _done something wrong. I wondered how long she'd been standing there, listening to our conversation. "You make yourself useful."

"Perhaps I'll go double back and see what we've left behind," Victor said, appearing at my side. I jumped and he raised a brow at me, a smirk on his face. I narrowed my eyes, hoping he remembered his promise.

They both went their separate ways, leaving me standing there like an idiot. They were both long gone before I'd even thought to break myself out of it and go after Hermione, demanding to know what was wrong. It was one thing to part ways amicably and entirely another for her to go back home hating my guts for no reason. It made me feel a little sick to think that that was what was going to happen.

"Where did everyone go?" Ingrid asked, holding my shirt in her hands.

I just shook my head, taking the shirt from her and proceeding to clear the surroundings. "Let's just get ready to leave," I said to her. "I'm dying to go home."

/

The sun had made its journey well past the horizon by the time Hermione deemed to grace us with her presence again. I had the good sense to not look directly at her, though she didn't seem to be glaring at me anymore. In fact, it seemed as though her walk had calmed right down aback into her usual energetic self. She bustled about, helping the rest of us pack, and answered all of Ingrid's eager questions with a polite smile on her face.

She ignored me, though. I supposed that was somewhat… normal. For a person like me, anyway.

Alright. So I wasn't sure what I had begun to expect from her at that point. I had assumed that – maybe – we were at the very least tentative friends. It didn't matter that this very morning I had attempted to distance myself away from her and had tried to say goodbye quite unsuccessfully. She hadn't been conscious for it, so for all intents and purposes it hadn't actually happened.

But really, in my head it felt like none of that distancing had ever happened, even though I had tried my damn best. My eyes followed her for any signs or cues. I had the burning urge to figure to figure out what exactly it was that I had fucked up so bad in the space of yesterday and today. I couldn't possibly plan a future without her if she was upset with me. How could I plan to leave her if she left loathing me?

I couldn't. It was inconceivable. I just couldn't. I _wouldn't_ –

"Can you help me with this?" Hermione asked Ingrid, holding up her full arms and gesturing to the bag on the ground in front of her.

Ingrid made to step forward, but I was there faster than Potter caught the snitch in our first year. Ingrid smiled and went back to folding blankets, but Hermione had a bewildered look on her face. I forced myself to smile, even though my stomach was in knots over this conundrum. I'm sure I looked ridiculous to her then. I could see it on her pretty little face. I picked up her never ending bag and held it open for her. She just shrugged and proceeded to stuff everything back in.

"Everything okay, Malfoy?" she asked without looking at me.

So it was back to Malfoy now, then. My heart fell. "No. Not really."

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately, looking up at me. Her good nature took precedence over everything else. Of course she wouldn't let whatever it was that was bothering her come in the way of being a good person. Of _course _there was worry in her wide, warm eyes. "Is it your back? Are the burns hurting again? Did I miss something yesterday?"

I shook my head, silencing her. "I don't know what's wrong. You'll have to tell me."

She regarded me closely for a moment. "Draco, I don't know what you mean…"

Well, at least I was _Draco _again.

"You're mad at me," I said, taking confidence in the sound of my name. It was as good of an explanation as I could manage. "I don't know about what. Did I do something wrong?"

She paused as if I had thrown her for a loop with that kind of a question. She looked at me almost in slight shock. How _could _I call her out on this? How inappropriate was that? Forget my position that was inferior to hers, how could anyone question her about anything? Who the hell did I think I was, anyway? Her eyes batted a second as if registering the random courage I had. Her lips parted prettily. Her cheeks took on the rosy colour I had so easily become fascinated with.

"Look Draco, I know we didn't-"

But she didn't finish because at that moment Victor burst through the foliage behind us and took me by the arm, dragging me towards the centre of the campsite where Ingrid was standing. He beckoned for Hermione to follow. The expression on his face was urgent. I almost wanted to protest, and almost did, if he didn't give me that look I had become so uncomfortably familiar with. The desperation, the sheer utter panic in his eyes told me to shut my mouth and listen.

Hermione didn't get the message. "What in the world-"

"Shh!" he hissed. She made to raise her wand, presumably to put up a few extra silencing charms, but he stopped her. "Don't!" he hissed. "I saw a group back there doing something…odd. I don't know. We have to go. I'm pretty sure they were Ivan's inner circle."

I froze, a little bit of a panic rising in me. A million thoughts raced through my head all at once. A dull ache shot up my spine and through the rest of me, a slow redness seeping through my vision. I was on fire and I couldn't breathe. I didn't have to wonder to know that Ivan was probably back there, trekking through the trees, and looking for me. Me specifically. I was the traitor and I was now going to pay for it.

Again.

Hermione took one brief glance at me and it made her purse her lips, a tight look in her eyes. I forced myself to exhale, to will the tension out of my shoulders, to just _not _be afraid. But I couldn't. Even looking at my saviour before me then, I couldn't let the fear seep out of me.

Hermione drew out her wand. "Stay here," she commanded me. "Stay with him Ingrid and be ready to leave. Show me the way, Victor."

Before she could take a step, my hand shot out and gripped her wrist out of its own violation. My panic grew. "Don't-" I gasped. "We can just go. We can just-"

"We need to know what we're up against and who," she said, gently prying my fingers off of her. I wanted to stop her, I did, but I couldn't. She pulled me away one gentle finger at a time. The look in her eye softened as she regarded me. "We won't approach them. They won't even know we're there, Draco. Trust me. I spent a whole year doing just that."

She smiled at me confidently, softly, _reassuringly, _but all I could do was grimace in return. Her smile never wavered. As she walked away, I really wanted to chase after her – to do something, to do _anything _– but all I could do was stand there with my feet rooted to the ground. I wanted her to come back and finish her sentence before the both of us were out of time.

But she was gone before I could even take a breath.

As soon as Hermione was gone, Ingrid sprang into action, finishing up the tasks we had neglected when Victor had appeared. It took me a second to go join her and be at least marginally useful. But I fumbled and my hands shook badly. My feet felt sluggish and I stumbled, keeping an eye and ear towards the direction Hermione and Victor had departed in. I held my breath until I was dizzy. And then I did it all over again.

Ingrid didn't ask anything of me, didn't even comment on my odd behaviour. I felt rather odd, too, like my brain was melting and pouring right out of my ears. But she didn't notice, or didn't comment on it if she did. For that, I was eternally grateful and my fondness for her grew in that moment. She picked up my slack. We were ready to go in no time at all. Soon, all we could do was stand there. I had Hermione's never ending bag strapped over my shoulder.

Ingrid held my hand – for moral support or because she thought I might actually fall over, I couldn't tell. I was massively grateful to her either way. She wasn't trembling. Her hand was soft, dry, and warm. It made me take in a deep breath and thank her silently for it. For all of it.

"Do you think they're…"

"No." Ingrid glanced towards the trees, her eyes certain. "I think they're just fine."

"How do you know?" I asked. She seemed so certain, almost too certain.

"Because she's Hermione Granger," she said with a smile. I smiled back. But then the smile slowly faded from her face and she turned away from the trees to look at me. "And because if something bad had happened, I think we would have heard it by now."

I sucked in a breath. She did have a valid point there. There really wasn't much more we could do except resume our silent vigil, waiting for the smallest sign or indication that everything was alright. Or, alternatively, that everything was shit and that we were all going to hell in a hand basket.

/

When they finally appeared, they were entirely silent, but the vision of her coming back into the clearing created a big bang in my head. My feet carried me towards her and she was in my arms before I could stop myself from making such a stupid mistake. What was wrong with me? The panic I didn't realize I had in my chest eased a little. She was protesting and Victor's hand was on my shoulder, but I couldn't make myself stop. My muscles wouldn't unclench. My body wasn't letting her go.

I guess my rational self had been left behind somewhere in Sofia.

"We have to go!" Hermione was saying, trying to drag my uncooperative body somewhere – presumably somewhere safe. I don't know what was wrong with me, though. I felt a little light headed, a little constricted, but altogether extremely happy to see her there and directly talking to me. "Draco, snap out of it. We have to leave."

"What's going on?" Ingrid asked, her brows furrowed as she surveyed the scene I was making.

"Rebel forces are scouting the forest for traitors," Victor provided when Hermione didn't volunteer the information. I suppose she couldn't. She was too busy trying to restrain my uncooperative limbs. "Looks like they're tracking magic."

"Tracking _magic_?" Ingrid asked, pulling on my other arm in an attempt to help Hermione. Together, they began to lead me after Victor, who was quickly and efficiently making his way through the Bulgarian greenery. "What does that even mean?"

"What does that even _mean_?" I echoed.

The three of them ignored me. My head swam a little.

"I've never seen that spell before," Hermione said, holding a branch back and shoving me forward. To my credit, I did not resist. I did stumble, however. If Ingrid hadn't been clutching my arm, I probably would have fallen over. What the hell was wrong with me? "It looked like they had a spell to detect magical residue from recent spell work done in the area, from what I could make of it."

"No," Victor called out from ahead. "I heard my father talk about this last week. Ivan found a spell to detect magic _in _an area."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, pulling me a little too hard. I feared for a second that I would become violently sick all over her shoes.

"My father wanted to put a stop to the rebel council because of it," Victor said, guiding us through a particularly thick bramble of branches. "Ivan wanted to apply a spell that would suppress the magic of the hit wizards so that our side could… Anyway, the plan couldn't work because to apply the spell, you'd need to already have some magical restrictions on the witch or wizard. It's how the locator spell works."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks so that I was jerked and forced to stop too. "Restrictions like…say on a wand?"

Three things happened in the moments following. First, I bent over and emptied the contents of my stomach over the trunk of a tree. Second, there was a bright jet of light that zipped past Victor's head, and lastly, Ingrid screamed. I was being dragged forwards, my hands shaking, wondering if after all that we had survived through, this was going to be the moment I would die. And at the hands of Bulgarian rebels no less.

Hermione was chanting, putting up a protective shield around the four of us. Victor was shouting spell after spell in all directions, not entirely sure where the rebels were. Ingrid was clutching at me, her eyes wide in fear, not understanding exactly why her own people were attacking her. I wanted to tell her it was because she had made the idiotic mistake of associating with me, but all I could do was vomit instead.

Suddenly, it all stopped. Hermione's shield had been put up. It was the oddest thing. There were flashes of red and orange and even green, but they all fizzled away upon contact with Hermione's invisible wall. I stared mesmerized until I began to shake. Hermione came to kneel next to me, her hand on my shoulder.

"What's happening to me?" I asked her. I looked up at Victor, who grimaced. That brought tears to my eyes.

"If I'm to make an educated guess, I'm going to say they were aware of the restrictions on your wand," Hermione said. Her voice was oddly clear, disturbingly rational. It was clinical, I decided. I think it made me feel safe in that split second, like she was going to make me all better just with her voice alone. "I think they're using their locator spell and suppressing your magic through that link. I believe that's what is making you sick."

A moment later, the ground shook and a physical crack appeared in Hermione's shield. She swore and stood, muttering and trying to reinforce the protective spell. But there was another blast soon after and another crack to follow it. My heart was in my throat. I wanted to spit it out and just be done with it all.

"I think they're using their link to Draco to blast through my shield," Hermione muttered to Victor.

He took this information in stride. "Where does that leave us?"

"Think we have maybe three minutes tops…"

A violent shudder wracked through my body and I was knocked off my knees. I didn't even have it in me to gasp, it was all so consuming and terrible. My lungs curled in on themselves and I thought perhaps I was being squeezed to death. Perhaps it was the feeling of my bones being pulverized or maybe my brain just experienced an aneurism, but for me that was it. That was the height of pain I was ever going to experience in my short, pathetic life. I would rather you know who come and crucio me again instead of this.

"Less than three," I gasped. The others looked at me in concern or perhaps in curiosity. Like, how could you know? And it was a valid question. How did I know? "We've got a minute."

Ingrid was pulling me up then, dragging me to my feet. "We're going to have to make a run for it," she was saying. "We've no other choice if the shield is going to fall…"

I knew what questions she wasn't asking in that statement of hers. Can you make it, Draco? Are you going to be a liability? We're here because of you, so are you going to put us through even more trouble? I didn't have answers to those questions – how could I? But I nodded at the tree of them. I was going to try my damned best and prepare for the eventuality of being left behind. Hermione narrowed her eyes at me, as if she knew what I had been thinking just then.

_I'm never going to leave you to die, _she had said. _It matters to me. _

This time, there was a groaning bang when the shield fell and all of a sudden I could breathe again. The spell had been let up and I was momentarily free. For a second, nothing happened, and we all just stood there, staring at each other like rabbits caught by wolves. But then there was a shout from the distance somewhere in the trees we had left behind, and there were deadly spells being thrown our way.

We ran for it. Energy pulsed through me and my head swam from the sudden rush of oxygen and the distinct lack of pain. Soon, I was tugging Ingrid along with me instead of the other way around. Soon, the denseness of the forest swallowed us up and we couldn't hear anything coming in pursuit of us. Ingrid pulled her brother to a stop, trying to catch her breath. Her hand gripped mine for support. I gave it to her as freely as I could.

"Where…are we…going?" she panted. Hermione looked about as well as if realizing for the first time that we had just sprinted off into the middle of nowhere. "We have to have a plan."

Victor squinted up into the sky to place the sun. "We should continue east," he decided. "We can make our way north later and adjust our position when it's safe, but for now…"

"East it is," Hermione declared, even though she and I had absolutely no idea of what lay in the east.

We hadn't made it more than a hundred feet before I was on my knees again and twisting in pain. This time my vision turned black and my ears popped. I felt blood rush to my head and tears were forced out of my eyes unwillingly. I was being squeezed like a lemon. They were going to take every ounce of blood that I had –

"Draco!" Victor hissed, hoisting me up.

"Run," I gasped, staring at their stunned faces with a desperation I didn't know I possessed. I stumbled forward, pulling the siblings with me. "_Run!_"

But it was too late. I knew it was too late when suddenly the pain had subsided, a sign that the spell had been let up. They had found us and had been able to do so because of me. There were curses whizzing through the trees, aimed at us.

Only this time, one made contact.

There was a gasp and a tug on my arm, a dead weight that had me collapsing and rolling onto the ground. I lay there dazed for a second until I remembered to turn my head, remembered that we had to _go,_ had to _run. _But I couldn't. No, I couldn't move. I was frozen there, pinned by the weight growing in my chest that wasn't ever going to leave. I stared back into Ingrid's lifeless eyes and wondered how I had let this happen.

There was a strangled cry behind me and I was shoved away. Suddenly, Victor was there, clutching his sister, shaking her and begging her to wake – we have to go, he kept repeating. But there was nothing. I wanted to make him stop shaking her. I wanted to make him look into her eyes and see that there was nothing there. You're an only child now, Victor.

_I made you this way. _

Hermione was pulling me up for the millionth time that day, but I couldn't spare her more than a glance. There were tears in her eyes, too. There were tears in all of our eyes. I wanted that to have been enough for Ingrid to wake up, but she didn't. She couldn't. There was nothing there, nothing left in that beautiful, perfect girl, and we all knew it. So we just stood there and basked in the panic of it all as Victor cradled her lifeless body. The sheer utter loss of it wrapped around us like a blanket.

Victor began to sob.

And then there were more curses coming through the trees, shattering the silence and the wildlife around us.

Victor wiped his eyes and raised his wand higher, pulling his very dead sister closer to his chest. "Go," he said.

"Come with us," I pleaded. "We can make it."

"I'm not going to leave her," he said. There was a determined look in his eye, a look I had never possessed because I was a coward. It touched me somewhere deep and I realized I didn't want to let this man go. "Run, brother. I'll be okay. They know who I am…they know my father. They won't kill me."

_Like they shouldn't have killed your sister? _

"Go, Draco," he commanded when I didn't move. 'If you're ever in Romania…"

"I'll look for you," I promised, even though the look on his face told me I was never going to see him again. He knew then that whatever happened, he wasn't ever leaving Bulgaria and I wasn't going to make it out of this forest alive. "Be safe."

"Don't waste any more time, Draco," he shouted after me. I looked back at him and he saluted me. "Go after what you want and don't let them take it away from you!"

_You love her, don't you? _

"Be safe!" I shouted back, hoping to god that he _would _be safe against all odds.

And then Hermione and I made a run for it. We didn't stop to acknowledge what had happened because reality was a harsh thing.

**A/N: And there you have it. What did you think? Please let me know. I will be diligent about responding to your reviews and PMs and all the rest this week. I'm currently working on the next chapter. If all goes well, I should be done before next Monday. Until then…**

"If you think for a bloody second I give a damn about this _fucking _thing, you're sorely mistaken." I tried my very best not to growl.

She gasped and just kneeled there in front of me, staring at me in complete and utter shock.

**Have a great week! **


	18. Breathing with you

**A/N: **So I promised a few of you that I would post this a long while back and it ended up not happening mostly because of tiredness and laziness. But what can you do? Anyhow, I'm not particularly happy with this chapter. This was supposed to be ONE scene and it ended up taking up its own chapter. This story is definitely going to be the longest thing I've ever written. If all goes as planned, in three (or four) chapters we should reach the halfway point in the plot.

Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and support. I've been horrible about responding to reviews, but I swear I am going to be making a more concerted effort to be on top of things, involved, (and hopefully writing faster to get these chapters out quicker). SO! A special thank you to all of you who've stuck around and written to me.

In any case, enjoy as best as you can and let me know what you thought.

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: BREATHING WITH YOU**

_**AUGUST 2001**_

We ran until we couldn't anymore, until the stitches in our sides forced us to stop. Still, we walked on almost aimlessly, as quickly as we possibly could. The only sound I could hear were our laboured breaths and the wind gently rustling the leaves on the never ending trees. We walked until the sun disappeared and then we walked some more.

"We should stop," Hermione said, tugging at my hand when I didn't immediately listen. I gestured for her to put up her protective charms, but she shook her head nervously. "I don't think it's a good idea for either of us to use magic right now…"

I stood there before her, staring blankly. When was it ever a good time for me to use magic, anyway? It wasn't as if I had ever been particularly gifted, especially compared to the brilliance standing before me. It wasn't as if I had had the ability to make use of it these past few years either, what with the restrictions. And it was my useless magic that had brought us here, that had killed Ingrid, that had Hermione risking her life for me…

"Draco," Hermione said gently, her eyes soft and round. "Are you okay?"

I made myself nod, or at least I thought I did an acceptable job of it. I took her bag from my shoulder and handed it to her wordlessly, sinking down to sit against a tree. I leaned against it and forced myself to breathe slowly and evenly. Everything ached and my eyes burned. I wanted nothing more than to just disappear. I closed my eyes and pretended like I was back home in my dingy little flat and that I had never come here on this godforsaken adventure.

"Draco…"

By my head was already swimming. There was a dull fire in my bones. Her words raised a sort of nausea within me. She was the proof that I was here and that all of this was inescapable. As long as she was with me, I was going to be a liability to her. That much was inevitable. The dull roar in my head grew sharply at that acknowledgement. When she called my name again, I opened my eyes and stared at her dully.

"What?" I asked her when she did nothing but stare back at me.

She bit her lip. "Do you have your wand?"

At first I thought maybe I hadn't heard her properly. What on earth did she want with _my _wand? Hadn't she just said a second ago that she didn't think it was a good idea to do any magic? Besides. This stupid thing was the whole reason we were in this mess in the first place. The stupid thing was the reason the Bulgarians were able to track me and – _oh… _

I reached into my trouser pocket and brought out the useless piece of wood for her inspection. I stared at it for a second, evaluating exactly how useless is was, before I held it out to her. I didn't bother staring at her when she took it from my hands, though she was still clearly biting her lip and staring at me. I could feel her eyes boring into me.

"Draco…"

"_What?" _I snapped, finally staring up at her. "What do you want?"

She came to kneel in front of me, looking for some kind of resolve within herself in order to say what she needed to say. "I know how hard it is to give up your wand but… but if they're tracking you through this then-"

A blind sort of rage burned through me at her words and I saw red. Who did this little witch think she was speaking down to me as if she knew who I was and what I bloody stood for? Who did she think she was, assuming I needed to be coddled over a stupid useless piece of wood? I grabbed my wand back from her, much to her surprise. Before she could stop me or even open her mouth to protest, I snapped it and threw the pieces aside.

"If you think for a bloody second I give a damn about this _fucking _thing, you're sorely mistaken." I tried my very best not to growl.

She gasped and just kneeled there in front of me, staring at me in complete and utter shock. I made sure to keep my face completely neutral, or as calm as I was able to, anyway. It didn't matter that my hands were shaking something fierce. I just had to seem composed enough for her to believe me. Breathe even, Draco, I told myself. You aren't a weakling. You will not let anyone walk over you. Not anymore. Not over this.

"They were trying to track us again, I think," I told her slowly when she didn't move, didn't even blink, the picture of shock painted perfectly on her beautiful face. I wondered what she could possibly be so shocked about. "I felt woozy… now I don't."

"Okay," she breathed, finally leaning back. The shock I had given her had apparently begun to subside slightly. "Okay…"

I sighed. "I will take the first watch."

"Okay," was all she said.

/

Breathe Draco, I told myself. The night was cold and more than a little chilly. I was sat up against a tree, my eyes peeled wide open, and staring out into the pitch black darkness of the forest surrounding us. Hermione was sleeping somewhere to my right, but I couldn't see her anymore. The night was too dark – it had been hours since she had left me to this mindless exercise.

It was crushing me like a tidal wave, the pressure in my chest. It was sitting on me and telling me to give in to it, to just soak it in and remember who I _really _was and where I _really _belonged. But I couldn't, not right now. I had to stay alert and make sure nothing got to us – to her – in the night. I didn't have the luxury to feel worthless right now. I didn't have the luxury to feel anything.

So _breathe, _goddamnit!

All I could think of was that goddamn hotel room, that bed, and Hermione curled comfortably next to me. I could see Ingrid's perfect, happy smile and Victor's urgent desperation. I could see Hermione in her fantastic blue dress and those hideous flowers and dancing with her in the most ridiculous fashion. I could see Ivan's malicious glare and the flashes and the fire. I could see Ingrid's lifeless eyes. But I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. I could gasp but I couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, there were hands on my face, grabbing onto me, and imploring me to look up. _Shh, _the hands said, soothing me. _Just focus. You don't have to breathe, you just have to feel me and focus – _

Suddenly, the hands were gone and my face was pressed against something incredibly soft. There were arms around me, a weight in my lap.

Suddenly, I was gasping.

"Shh… it's okay, Draco," the angel whispered next to my ear. She was so close I could feel her breath fan over my cheek. "It's okay. I'm right here. You're going to be okay. I'm right here."

I only then realized that my face was wet and I was dripping tears and what not all over Hermione's pretty little neck. She had her arms securely around me, one hand running through my hair, the other gripping me like I was about to fall apart right then and there. Maybe I was, because she continued muttering nonsense in her soothing, angelic voice, but it did nothing. I couldn't stop. It took all I had in me to unlock my arms from their stiffness and put them around her, clutching her desperately. She was my last lifeline, I realized.

"I'm so sorry," I said when I could finally speak, my voice rough and my face hot. "This is all my fault. I did this."

I didn't have to lift my head to know she was shaking hers. We were pressed that close. "This isn't your fault, Draco… none of it is."

But no matter how many people told me this, it was never going to be true. Never again.

"It was my wand," I mumbled, too tired to do anything but just lay my head against her. I squeezed my eyes and tears unwillingly leaked past my lids. I didn't have it in me to offer anything but that. Everything was dulled now that she was here with me, mitigating the sting of it. "She's gone. She's gone because of me and I…"

"I'm sorry," she quietly whispered when I could say no more, pressing her lips to my forehead. "I'm so, so sorry."

Her arms tightened around me.

She didn't say anything further, only held me to her and pressed her face into my hair. I let her. I let her stroke the back of my neck and I let her pity me because I was certain that was all that was keeping her there. I knew at that moment that she was the only thing that was holding me together. She was all I had in this moment. Maybe she was all I was ever going to have.

My ticket to Romania was now gone. Hermione was never going to come with me there and now I had no reason to even go at all. Not without Ingrid or Victor. I had no wand. It had no use for me, what in its restricted state, but it was all I had of my past life and now it was gone. I had bought it with my mother. It was my last link to her. I had snapped the last link I had to my rotting, insane mother and had tossed it away like it was nothing.

I couldn't go to Romania wandless. Who would hire me there? I'd be even worse off than I was back in England. And how was I supposed to go back home? I wasn't going to be able to hold a job there either without a wand. And there was no way anyone was going to sell the likes of me something like that, not over Ollivander's dead body. Not that I had the money to do so anyway.

Maybe I ought to brave the journey by myself. At least there the people wouldn't be entirely prejudiced against me. Perhaps I ought to just stay in this forest for the rest of my short life and brave it out. But I had a sneaking suspicion that the witch wrapped around me wouldn't let me. She wouldn't let me go, she had said so herself. She wasn't going to let me stay here and she wasn't going to let me go to Romania without a fight either.

So I had nothing. I had nothing but this moment and those arms wrapped tightly around me. More than anything, I couldn't bear to go home because it meant that I'd never have these arms as mine again. I'd have to watch them wrapped around someone else. And Hermione wouldn't be putting her arms around this other person out of pity. No, there was no pity involved in that scenario.

"Were you guys really close?" Hermione murmured somewhere above my ear.

I shivered. "No. Not really. I only just met them when I got to the city."

"_Oh_," she breathed, her hands loosening around my neck. "And you were going to run away with her?"

I didn't understand the confusion in her voice. Of course I was going to run away with them. What else did I have left? Even before my wand snapped, why the hell would I want to go back to that awful drudgery in Britain? Victor and Ingrid had been my ticket out of it all. Now Ingrid no longer had any light in her eyes and Victor was probably being held captive with the Bulgarian rebels.

Maybe they were torturing him for information about my whereabouts. The thought made me sick.

"Victor had asked his father pretty much the day I got here if I could leave with them… when they did." The thought made me choke up. It was gone. It was never going to happen. Ingrid was dead and it was all because of me. All of this was my fault. "They were such nice people. Now they're broken apart because of me."

Hermione placed her hand on my cheek and gently stroked her thumb over the salty mess. It was too dark to make out the expression on her face. It was just as well. I didn't want to see it in any case. I didn't want to be reminded that the only reason she was doing any of this was out of pity.

"So you and her…"

She trailed off and I shuddered. She must have felt it too because we were sitting that close together. I wondered desperately what she could possibly want to ask me at this point, what deep and desperate fact she wanted to confirm. They were my ticket out of here, Granger. They were going to be my new family because my real family is incarcerated, degraded, and worth nothing. Did she want to know how selfish I was? A brilliant woman had died and I could think of was myself. It was always just easier to think of myself.

"…You were together?"

I said nothing. I could say nothing; my brain was still processing the question. She was staring at me expectantly, I knew it. I knew she was biting her lip. Maybe they were parted. I was…confused. Why the hell would anyone assume that? And about sweet, lovely Ingrid of all people. Why on earth would she ever want anything to do with the likes of me? And then it settled in my mind.

"You think that's the only reason I'd be sad that she…she-"

"God, Draco, of course not, but-"

"But _what?_" I asked, maybe a little more harshly than necessary. I began to lean away from her, shifting with the intent of getting away from this awkwardness. "Do you think I'm _that _horrible?"

I _was _this horrible, but she didn't need to know that.

"_Draco. _You will not put words in my mouth," she ordered and I had to obey. How could anyone deny her anything when she became authoritative like that? I think yelling at her earlier had been a bad idea. There was an obvious limit of how much of my shit she was willing to take. "This morning, after a long day of worrying about keeping you alive, I wake up and you're curled up with her half naked. What was I supposed to think?"

"That we were friends!" I insisted, even though I knew I sounded utterly ridiculous. I could see now what she meant, how that would look odd to anyone who didn't know the facts. I didn't know why it was so important for me to make this point to her – that none of this was _real _– but I just had to. "That anyone who has gone through what we went through would want to stick together!"

"You snapped your wand in half and threw it away like it didn't even matter," she retorted as if this was conclusive proof. "What was I supposed to think?"

"That it _didn't _matter," I insisted, even though it was a blatant lie. Nevertheless, it was a lie I was never going to take back. I was thankful that it was so dark, because my face had started to flush out of embarrassment. I was ready for this whole ordeal to just be over. "It was useless with all the restrictions _your _Ministry placed on it. You know what, I'm _glad _it's gone!"

She sighed. "Whatever you say, Draco."

And that was the first time the both of us had a real argument since we were re-introduced post war.

/

I woke up with an empty mind and a lighter heart. In that moment, when the air was still damp with dew and the sun hadn't quite just crested the horizon, my head was just clear. I was sightless. In that space of time, I was nothing but the slow and even breaths that I took. There was silence, there was a sort of shallow warmth, and there was me. Everything was in sync and I was weightless. People always say that we feel the most alive when we're exhilarated, engaging in something reckless and/or freeing. For me, this is what being alive meant most. Just existing and nothing else.

Soon, the feeling in my limbs returned to me and I was able to flex my fingers and toes. If I craned my neck, I could see Hermione sprawled half over me, clutching me in her sleep. I knew she was only clinging to me because I was warm, but nonetheless the sight of it sent a heady flutter through my chest. If anything, this only made me feel _less _alive, like I wasn't actually here but back in some kind of dream world.

I must have fallen back into this dreamless kind of sleep just staring at her, because the next thing I knew the sun was blinding me and Hermione was poking me in the side, demanding that I get up. We had to get going she was saying in that half asleep voice of hers. Of course I knew that she had no idea where we were or where there was to even be going, but that didn't seem to make one whit of difference to her.

Or that I would much rather curl up onto my side once again and sink into this dreamless heaven once more. If being alive was to just exist, I definitely did that best when I was gone to the world. I didn't want to think about the consequences of yesterday. I wanted to put that off for as long as humanly possible.

"Five more minutes," I muttered, rolling over and nearly crushing her.

She let out an indignant squawk and shoved my arm away, demanding that I get up _now _and we didn't _have _five minutes to waste on my laziness. I'm not quite sure exactly where it came from, either, this laziness or this desperate need to sleep. I just knew whenever she was around, I let all of my inhibitions go and let these base desires get the best of me.

"Ten more minutes."

"You are seriously such a child," she huffed. I didn't like the tone in her voice just then. It had been bad enough last night. I really didn't feel like continuing _that _conversation right now, especially now that I was ready to pass out back into oblivion. I tried to reach for her, but she evaded my grasp. "Are you always like this in the mornings?"

"Like what," I mumbled, giving up trying to grasp her. I yawned instead, curling my head into my arm to block out this hideous sunlight. I yawned again. "Brilliantly awesome?"

She snickered. "Brilliantly awesome at sleeping in lazily?"

"I resent that," I mumbled into my arm. "Come on, Hermione. Come here. Five more minutes and then I'll get up."

"We have to get going," she insisted.

I yawned in the most exaggerated fashion I could. "It's too early."

"It's half past ten."

"_Too early," _I reiterated. When she didn't immediately respond, I cracked open an eye halfway to find her crouched next to me and staring. There was slight amusement on her face, half trepidation like maybe she didn't know how to deal with me just then. "What? Why can't you just admit that normal people shouldn't get up past noon and just take a nap?"

"Like normal people should admit that snapping one's wand in half _matters_?" she retorted. My smile slipped off my face.

So we were back there again. I opened my eyes fully then to see her speculative gaze on me. I took pains to keep my face perfectly neutral in face of her scrutiny, but I knew she could see right through me. She was perceptive like that, always had been. I'm rather sure she was the one who had destroyed half of my plans at Hogwarts and not Potter like I had mistakenly assumed. I sighed and met her stare dead on. It was better to nip these things in the bud. Or at least, that's what I had been told by the murdering psychopath that was my dead aunt.

"What do you want me to say, then?" I asked.

"I don't want you to say anything," she immediately responded with a frown. "I just want you to be honest. If you're sad about losing your girlfriend, you should just openly say so-"

"She wasn't my girlfriend!" I vehemently shouted, scaring a couple of birds nesting above us. But hell if I cared about a few stupid birds. I got up faster than I probably should have and pointed a finger at her. "So _what _if I care about that stupid wand? It's done with now. I'm just sorry that some poor innocent girl is dead because of it! I wish I'd snapped it weeks ago!"

And as I stood there, chest heaving with the effort of explaining myself, and more than a little red and indignant, a smile grew on her face. I was perplexed. Blood pounded in my ears and a slow mortification grew within me at the thought that I'd bared myself so easily to her, without even much effort or prodding from her part. She had me exactly where she wanted me and she knew it. It wouldn't take more than a little snap of her fingers to crush me right there. Maybe she knew that too.

"And now that you're up and going, we can probably get out of here soon enough," she said, brushing leaves off her knees as she got up and made her way past me. "Would you like to make some breakfast or shall I?"

When she caught sight of my face and my indignant sputtering, she laughed her pretty laugh. A few minutes later, I couldn't help but join her, even though I didn't find it the _least _bit funny that she'd tricked me so easily. Secretly, I was happy that she was letting it go – hopefully forever – and not pushing me on this. I was ready to never speak of it ever again if such a thing was possible. The thought of Ingrid lying cold and dead didn't hurt as much just then.

This was how we made up after our first "official" argument – by just breathing.

**A/N: Please let me know what you thought! The next three chapters is probably what the lot of you have been waiting for. I don't have a lot of it written down yet, but the ideas have been swirling around in my head for a while now. Here's a little sneak peak: **

"So you're going to start over somewhere else," she finished. I nodded to confirm this extremely reasonable thought. Her face was controlled. I could barely even see the disappointment now. The mortification was long gone. "But Draco… you realize that if you do this, if you don't come back with me now, they might just label you as part of the rebel group? Then you'll never be able to come back at all. _Ever._"

**Response to Unsigned Reviews: **

**Christian: **Hello there! Hope you enjoyed this one as well.

**Irze: **Hopefully most of your observations were addressed with this chapter. Draco doesn't deal very well with anything, really. He's delusional and more than just a little bit dramatic. In any case, I'm glad you're enjoying! Thank you for reviewing.

**Guest: **That's very sweet of you to say! Thank you for reviewing.


	19. Fate Tied the Knot

**A/N: **Surprised to see me back so early? Me too! I spent this week writing on the way to and from school. I did get a few odd looks on the subway, but that's the price of life. This chapter was supposed to be ONE SCENE! Am I too long winded, guys? At this rate, this story is going to be so ridiculously long that it's not even funny. I hope you guys are enjoying in any case.

A special thank you to the reviewers: ross Malfoy, SimpsonSortia, Guest, Dancing-Souls, MEEC7, Guest, SunLover92, Mistress-Cinder, nimishak, Christian, RolledupinOne, FanOfRandomThings, Lady Moonglow, irze, and HarryPGinnyW4eva

Enjoy!

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: FATE TIED THE KNOT**

It was a chilly morning by British standards for an August. Did these Bulgarians not have a proper summer? Yes, on the island we were rained on more than an ocean could possibly hold, but at least it didn't feel like the middle of winter, minus the snow. Hermione didn't seem to be bothered by it, but that was probably because she had dug out a sweater from that never ending bag of hers. I only had this one shirt, my only sweater left behind in the hotel room I'd never see again.

It was probably still transfigured into that dinner jacket that I'd gone to the ball in.

In fact, the majority of my belongings had been left behind in that annoying hotel room, including my sock of galleons. The only money I had to my name. Including all of my best work clothes. Including my dignity. And now that I had snapped my wand as well, I had absolutely nothing except for the clothes on my back and whatever charity Hermione Granger could spare me.

I think I was in a worse position than I had been after the Death Eater trials after the war.

The thought made a ridiculous panic grow in my chest, considering that I was nowhere near civilization and had no method of getting to it besides my two feet. There was no sense in doing _anything _besides figuring out how to get out of this godforsaken forest (and then after that, this godforsaken country). That left no room to panic. All of that could come later. All of that _had _to come later; there was no other option for it.

Besides, Hermione had given me enough worrying looks to last me a life time. I would be happy to never see that look directed at me ever again.

She was walking three steps ahead of me, talking aloud (presumably to herself) about directions of places I'd never heard of and things that she ought to look out for because I had no idea what they were. I tried to listen to her and clamp down on my panic, but her rambling was just so beyond me. All I knew was that she planned to somehow get to the border and then make an attempt to cross it. How she planned to do any of the above, especially with how the army seemed to be at every single checkpoint (hadn't we had to come through one of those on our way here?) was beyond me as well.

"So…" I said, hurrying to catch up with her. "Where are we going?"

She rolled her eyes. She clearly now knew that I hadn't been listening. "To the south and then the east towards Greece. Seems like the best idea at this point. We can easily get home that way because-"

"Isn't Romania to the north?" I cut her off.

She paused as if astounded that I'd not automatically agree with her well thought out plan. I saw it clear as day on her face. She had just assumed that I would be willing to go back home with her, back to that drudgery, back to having nothing – and now, having even less than nothing. The panic of the night, of having her arms around me, seemed like a distant memory. In the light of day, I really had to weigh my options. Where was I going to be better off in the long run? With the British who wanted me under their thumb, or somewhere else where I'd have as fair a chance of dying as any other poor bloke?

I had to play this right. I had to make her see this my way. I couldn't be blinded by her. I had to do what I thought was the best for _me _and no one else. I was selfish like that.

"I thought that… well, since we were separated from … well, that you wouldn't want to go to Romania anymore," she muttered reluctantly, blushing at the thought that she'd mucked something up for once in her life. How dare Hermione Granger make such a stupid mistake? I could see the mortification on her face for the fact that she'd revealed this to me of all people. I could sense her uncomfortableness. "I'm sorry. Um…"

I could see it in her eyes. She was lamenting the fact that she didn't know me as well as she thought she did. Maybe she didn't know me at all.

Did anyone?

"There isn't anything left for me back there," I said to her slowly, reasonably. I didn't let the panic of that thought colour my voice. I had to explain this to her in a way she could understand. I had to let her let me go in a way that was good for the both of us. "Greengrass isn't going to let me work for him again without a wand. I left all my savings and my things back in Sofia. The Ministry is probably going to keep an eye on me now that I've been associated with these…"

"Rebels?" Hermione offered helpfully.

"Yes, rebels," I agreed. I felt proud of myself for sounding so calm, so reasonable. I could see her working out this issue in her head. "If I go back with you, I've no idea what will happen. And I'll have nothing to work out all those issues with, no resources. So…"

"So you're going to start over somewhere else," she finished. I nodded to confirm this extremely reasonable thought. Her face was controlled. I could barely even see the disappointment now. The mortification was long gone. "But Draco… you realize that if you do this, if you don't come back with me now, they might just label you as part of the rebel group? Then you'll never be able to come back at all. _Ever._"

I hadn't thought of it like that. Now that she pointed it out, though, it made a lot of sense. I belatedly remembered all of those contracts I'd signed just after my Death Eater trial, promising that I'd never break any of the regulations, never would break the law, and would never leave the country without authorized permission…

I remembered the contracts that Granger had made me sign, all three of them, just before we'd left the country to come here. One had been my work contract with all the clauses about refraining from Death Eater like activities, such as not killing my team members. The second had been a promise to be open to being monitored by my superiors. The third had been the solemn vow to return to my life as it were without any muss or fuss.

_This work visa is subject to removal based on any misconduct or suspected misconduct. Furthermore, the recipient must return to his or her country of residence at the end of the allocated time period. Failure to do so will place the subject under the criminal jurisdiction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to be sentenced by the Wizengamot, after which a sentence of life imprisonment may follow…_

How had I forgotten all about that? Of course she would remember, though. She had signed on as my witness, after all, with another inconsequential Auror that hadn't even wanted to be there. I remembered how she had pursed her lips when she'd read over the contracts, how she'd muttered and seethed and looked at me as if I were agreeing to something she would never ever stand for. I hadn't even wanted to read them, really. She had made me. _"Never sign anything without reading it first, Malfoy,_" she had said. _"It could bite you in the arse later." _

And she was right about everything, of course.

So where did this leave me? If I went back now, Hermione would vouch for me and say I wasn't some kind of Bulgarian rebel. I'd get restored to poverty, but I knew for sure that they were going to keep an eye out for me now. My anonymity no longer existed. It was gone the second the Bulgarian Minister had looked me in the eye and had smiled his evil little smile. If I went back now my life would be miserable. I'd been walking on eggshells before. I'd be walking on a path of glass now.

But what if I left? What if I didn't want to deal with this drudgery anymore? I could conceivably make my way to Romania. I could conceivably pretend like I was a squib. Squibs didn't have wands, they had no need for such things. But surely squibs earned a living somehow. I could be a janitor like Filch had been. I could work my way up. I could ask a vampire to turn me. I could do anything and everything a person of meagre means could do.

Unless a British official found me there. Then they'd drag me back and put me in front of the Wizengamot for breach of contract and god knows what else. They'd try me and put me in Azkaban for the rest of my life, the one thing that I had been trying to avoid this entire time. Was that risk worth it? Could I start a new life with the fear of being caught hanging over my shoulder for the rest of my life? Was any of this worth the disappointed look on Hermione's face?

I had to say that it was. Anything was worth not having to go back to dying a little more every single time I regained consciousness.

"I have to do it," I said. In that moment, everything was uncharacteristically clear. I knew what I wanted. I knew what path I had to take in order to get it. I knew all of the risks and all of the consequences. And I had made my decision all on my own without any interference from any other factor. I almost felt proud. "I know what it means. But there really is nothing left for me back there. I have to try and…"

For a second neither of us said anything and I just looked at her face, possibly for the last time ever. She seemed to be contemplating me, how I could make such a decision, how I could be so desperate as to leave everything I ever knew behind so easily. Without even looking back. There was a little crease between her brows that I wanted to smooth out with my thumb. I wanted to tell her to stop thinking, that this had nothing to do with her, that _I _no longer had anything to do with her.

But I could see it on her face. The question was in her eyes: _what about me? _

I wanted to say _what _about you? I've already said goodbye, Ms. Granger. You should have, too.

Soon enough she snapped out of it. With a little shake of her head and a squaring of her shoulders, she was back to the world, back to being that strong little bird that I knew she was. She looked at me with determination in her eyes, something that said I don't have to like the decisions you're making, I only have to support them. Because that is the kind of noble individual that I am.

And she was. She truly was.

"Well, if you're going to trek north all by yourself, you're going to need rations," she said. Her voice wasn't hard or judgemental. It was just a statement of fact. She began to rummage through her little never ending bag, pulling things out that she could spare me or she thought I could make better use of. I didn't stop her because what else was I supposed to do? Her charity was all I had to go off of. If I wanted to survive, I was going to need it. "You'll have to find your own water supply unfortunately, but…"

And she really was just a well of knowledge. She began spouting things that she thought I might find useful to survive in this hellish forest. I really should have listened, too, probably should've been taking notes like a studious person would. But I couldn't help but be distracted by her face, her animation. The way she held herself in the face of something she thought ought not to have happened. She was mesmerizing. She was probably the only reason I was able to think about the world as something other than a miserable machine.

She was like sunlight. She made the world a brighter place. She made _my _world worth living in.

"That should do it," she concluded, stopping and staring at me with a sad little smile on her face.

I was startled, not entirely sure how this was happening. I had spent the last couple of days (or had it been lifetimes?) trying to convince myself to leave her and to _not _leave her and to make sure the both of us just made it somewhere. Here I was ready to walk away from here, away from her and her kind. And it was going to be _forever. _There was no going back after this.

When I turned around and left, there was no coming back.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked me one more time. It took me a second to nod my head in agreement. Yes. I was sure I wanted to do this, wasn't I? I had been just a moment ago. "In that case… I guess this is goodbye, Draco."

"Pleasure," I managed to choke out. I didn't know why there was such a hesitance in me now. I suppose the thought of never having her smile at me again was a bit of a daunting prospect. I had had no idea how important such a tiny little thing was to me. "It's been nice knowing you, Granger."

She smiled and approached me, putting down the things she'd set aside for me and hugging me before I could do something foolish like put my hand out for her to shake. Her breath warmed my chest through the thin shirt I had on. Her arms made the skin on my back heat up and burn. Her gigantic hair tickled my nose as I bent and tried to consume her in the most innocuous way possible.

Don't worry. She didn't notice. She never notices.

It was over as quick as it had started. She stepped back a little awkwardly, that shyness creeping up in her eyes again. It didn't suit her I immediately decided. She was bold and gutsy, especially when it came to putting harmless little me in my place. But I could see the wariness in her eyes. She didn't want to say anything out of line. She'd just learned that she didn't know me all that well, after all. All of the assumptions we'd made and lived through these past couple of days were all entirely gone now.

And soon she would be gone, too.

"I'll tell them we got separated in the chaos," she said then when all I could do was stare longingly at her. She was blinking up at me, her face curiously composed. It was like she was purposely putting up a curtain so I couldn't see what was going on in her head. It made something pang deep inside me. But this was how it was supposed to be, I told myself. "Worst comes to worse, they'll put you down as a casualty…"

"Thank you," I said genuinely. What hadn't she done for me? I didn't deserve this. Surely not. I hadn't done enough good deeds in my life. "That's… thank you."

She smiled a little more brightly then and that ever present panic within me dulled a little bit. What could I do but stand there and admire her? It was a little treasure that I was going to memorize and take with me on the road. It was what was going to keep me warm at night. A minute passed and then two. Slowly her smile began to fade and the silence began to become awkward.

She looked at me like, _what are you waiting for? _I wanted to say you go first but I could only imagine her stubborn self, retorting: no _you _go first! And it would never end. The whole image was so random and disturbing that I had to physically shake myself out of it.

"Well!" I said almost breathlessly, bending down to pick up the little bundle of possessions that were now mine. "Bye then."

And then I turned around and walked right out of the clearing, forcing myself not to look back at what I knew would crack my heart into a million little pieces.

"You're going the wrong way!" she shouted after me.

"Right!" I exclaimed, my cheeks heating up and embarrassment flooding through my veins as strong as a shot of firewhisky.

I turned right around and marched back the way I came. I didn't miss the amused shake of her head or the ridiculous grin that threatened to crack her face in half. I'm not sure how much I appreciated the humiliation, but I suppose making a fool of myself was worth it in the end.

/

I hadn't gone more than a dozen feet into the trees before I had to stop and sit down. I buried my face into the soft blanket she had given me. Belatedly, I realized it was the same one she had draped over me on the train ride over here. And now it was mine, from her to me. Breathing in the scent of her perfume that lingered on the fabric, I let the colour in my face deepen and let out a groan.

_Well, bye then? _What the hell had I been thinking? Couldn't I have come up with _anything _else? Anything more creative? Goddamnit. Not only was I hopeless, I was also pathetic. What must she think of me now? She had already thought I was a volatile freak of nature that she probably ought to avoid. Now she probably thought I was ridiculous as well.

But had that actually happened? Did I really do that?

I had half a mind to turn around and run after her. She couldn't have gotten too far yet. I could possibly go back and tell her I wasn't a nut job and that she ought not to spend the rest of her life thinking of me that way. I could possibly convince her to hug me again. Maybe I could tell her that I was changing my mind, that I was going to go back with her. Of _course _I'd never leave Britain! What a stupid notion…

No! _No. _I had made up my mind. I was just going to have to muster the resolve to stand by it. But nevertheless…she probably wouldn't say no if I rushed back to her now.

_No_!

_Well, why not? _

_Because you have dignity, _I told myself, standing up and brushing dirt off my trousers. Not that that helped. My trousers were filthy and I hadn't had self-esteem since the 90's. It was with a heavy sigh that I bolstered myself with a ridiculous impression of what was supposed to be courage and headed in what I hoped was the right direction. It was now or never. Today was going to be the first day of the rest of my now free life. _Don't you dare even look back!_

I took a step and another. I may have tripped on the third one, but after that it was smooth sailing. It was just one foot after another for a whole fifteen steps. Then I heard a sort of distant crash. A kind of banging, I should say. It made me stop and perk up my ears like a dog listening for a whistle. I even held my breath should this be important. I waited for a whole minute and a half but nothing happened. Perhaps I'd imagined it. Perhaps the forest was cheering my new life decisions too.

One step, two steps, three steps – _Bang. _Was that a bang or was it a high pitched girly screech? In the instant that my heart restarted from its fright, I knew it was both. I was turned around and running back the way I'd come from as fast as my annoyingly slow legs would carry me. Something was wrong. I'd barely been gone ten minutes and something was already wrong.

_Why the fuck did you leave? Why? _

I didn't have an answer other than that I was a selfish motherfucking bastard of the nth degree. The thought that that was the _only _reason why something had befallen my poor innocent Granger was flashing before my eyes to the point where I didn't even see the trees rushing by me or the panic of what the fuck I was supposed to do when I actually got there. I didn't have a wand. Even if I had had a wand, it wouldn't have done me any good. But it didn't matter, none of it did. All I could see was the guilt that _this entire thing was all my fucking fault. _

I stumbled into the clearing we'd been occupying the night before to find Hermione struggling massively with two Bulgarian rebels. One had her by the ankles and the other by her shoulders, trying to lift and detain her. It wasn't working out too well in their favour as Hermione kicked and screeched and (probably) swore at the two oafs in Bulgarian. They seemed to have managed to disarm her, but they didn't seem to be accomplishing much else.

In that moment, I'm not proud to admit it, I was frozen. Like every other important moment in my life, I was frozen to the ground with no concept of what I was supposed to do and no will to do it. I could only watch the insanity unfold before me as the girl I'd almost left behind (and might as well have) kicked and screamed and violently defended herself with more gusto and purpose than I had possessed in my entire useless life.

And then she looked at me. Her eyes met mine and she froze.

There was a slight shock to them, a panic that hadn't been there before she'd spotted me. I realized then that perhaps these Bulgarians didn't really want anything to do with her besides find me and kill me for betraying their cause. Maybe she had been fighting so valiantly because she thought she was protecting me or whatever noble people did. It made my senses flood with a painful jolt of awakening.

_She wasn't moving. _

The Bulgarians hadn't noticed me. They'd taken her cessation of movement as tiredness or perhaps a loss of the will to live. One was laughing. The other hadn't quite caught his breath yet. Hermione looked away, something in her posture telling me to not interfere with this, to just turn around and go back the way I'd come. I'm not proud to tell you that I almost did. I almost looked away and turned around too.

There was a sort of rock near my foot. I'm not quite sure why it caught my eye, but it did. I didn't quite rationalize it to myself before I did it, but I was bending down and picking it up, moving towards the psychotic Bulgarians (who by now were laughing at their easy target) and was bashing one of them over the head with it. There was a sickening crunch, a dull ache in my arm from the force of smashing someone else's skull, and a pathetic warrior cry that most likely just sounded like a yowling dog.

When I stepped away from the now bleeding (and unconscious) Bulgarian, I realized his partner was pointing his wand at me and shouting at the top of his lungs in a language I didn't understand. I was a bit dizzy from the thrill that I was still alive. I dropped the rock. I even raised my arms in a version of what was supposed to be surrender.

Before the man could even shoot a spell at me, Hermione had jumped onto his back, scratching at his face, beating him over the head, and inflicting any damage that her little body possibly could to someone that large. His face turned purple when she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed as tightly as she could. And then he bent over and dislodged her, spitting and wheezing and about to trample her in his fury.

The dizziness flared as I jerked forward. The adrenaline made me shake slightly as I kicked him between his legs, making me wobble slightly as I moved back outside of his grasp. He fell to his knees and I almost felt guilty for delivering such a low blow. But then I had to kick him again as he reached for his fallen wand. The man growled and reached for me instead.

As I stumbled backwards, Hermione appeared from wherever she'd fallen and dropped the bloody rock I'd used on the first one right onto his head. There was a thud and a sharp sort of crack and then there was silence. Well, silence save for the sound of our panting. I looked at her. She looked at the now unconscious Bulgarian. We looked at each other and then we looked away.

"That was the most anti-climactic fight I've ever been a part of," I said to her.

At first she looked at me like I was crazy. And maybe I _was _crazy. My hands were still shaking a little, a tremor probably passing through my body. My heart was still pounding with the adrenaline, just waiting for one of the unconscious brutes to get up and demand a round two. My mind was still racing with the possibilities of what could have happened, what probably was about to happen in the very near future. My soul ached with the thought that she was about to give herself up for me.

"What do you mean?" she finally asked. She had the decency to not stare at me like I was mental.

I smiled. "I actually won. What's the point of a fight if I don't get the shit kicked out of me?"

At first she snorted and I had to smile at that. Hermione Granger doing anything that was even remotely unladylike really amused me for some strange reason. And then suddenly she was bent over with her hands on her knees, laughing like a mad banshee. I chuckled, more concerned for her sanity than anything else. Soon she was red in the face and gasping for breath, but she didn't sound like she was going to be done with her fit any time soon.

"Geeze, Hermione. Calm down," I muttered, fully taking advantage of the opportunity and patting her on the back. A thrill went through me when she didn't bat my hand away. "Deep breaths."

She sighed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Why are you always so funny after near death experiences?"

"Only with you," I said to myself, though I'm rather sure I was standing too close for her not to have heard. I cleared my throat when I caught the look on her face. "It wasn't even that funny."

But she wasn't taking the bait.

"You came back for me," she said, all traces of the laughter gone. I nodded yes because that was obvious. I was standing right there. She stared at me for a full minute, but I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say.

I knew what she meant, obviously I did. She wanted to know why on earth I would bother. I was a coward after all and everyone knew it. Why on earth would you risk your own hide for the likes of me? You had a perfect opportunity to get rid of me, of all of us, and yet here you are. And it was true. I was a coward and I valued my own life before everyone else's.

"_Why_?" she finally asked, the expression on her face incredulous.

I snorted. It was a silly question and she probably knew it.

"I'm not about to leave you to _die," _I said, quoting her own words back at her. "Your life matters to me."

She stared at me then, her eyes mysteriously shiny. It threw me a little because how could she have not known this? I wasn't heartless. I owed her everything I had, _literally. _I wasn't about to let her be carted off by psychopaths on my behalf, not if I had something I could reasonably do about it. I didn't know whether to be depressed that she thought so little of me or moved that she cared this much at all. I compromised by memorizing the look on her face. It was beautiful. I was about to say so when one of the Bulgarians grunted, moving to rub the back of his head.

Hermione was on it quicker than I was. She walked over, picked up the fellow's wand, and stunned him and his partner before the guy had even managed to open his eyes. And then she was levitating them, placing a quick and efficient _incarcerous _on them, binding them tightly to a tree. A minute later, she'd administered four memory charms, another binding charm, and a disillusionment charm on the both of them. A minute after that she was shoving their wands in her never ending bag and gesturing for me to follow her away from the clearing.

I was blown away by how quickly and brutally she'd done all that and how easily she'd committed a felony without even blinking. It was illegal to steal someone's wand, especially these days. I wasn't sure what she was thinking. Not that those Bulgarian oafs deserved wands. Probably for the best once they escaped and came after us. They really must have caught her unawares to have disarmed her _and _gotten her in a compromising position.

"How'd they catch you anyway?" I asked her.

"I was being an idiot," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I thought perhaps you might have forgotten something so I didn't put up a defence in time…"

I hadn't even _been _there and I was still putting her in danger. I grunted in disgust. "Figures."

"You had better get going, then," she said, sighing again. The mysterious look in her eye was gone now and was replaced by something a lot more sad looking. "If you want to get anywhere before nightfall, that is."

I paused mid step, just waiting for her to say she was kidding. How could she expect me to leave her after I'd seen her hanging between two massive Bulgarians? If she couldn't survive alone in this forest for ten bloody minutes after I left her, how on earth was she going to make it home in one piece? Surely if she didn't show up home, someone would come looking for her. And when they didn't find her, they were going to come looking for _me. _Surely I'd be incarcerated quicker than you could say Azkaban if I said I'd left the golden girl to fend for herself. _Surely. _

"And leave you to get captured?" I ventured, watching her roll her eyes again. "To die?"

"Come on," she said with a scoff. "It was a one off. It won't happen again. I was just caught… off guard, really."

I had to decide then and there what my priorities were. I could leave her here conceivably and she probably wouldn't think any less of me. She probably wouldn't even care either way. I would be free of her and of Britain and of everything I loathed all that much quicker. Or I could stay with her and live with a clean conscience for the rest of my life. If I could make sure that she got home safely and soundly I'd definitely sleep a lot better at night.

But why couldn't I have both?

"I'm not going to leave you here, I already told you," I said. I was determined again now, even more than before. This was the right thing to do. I could see she was about to protest so I raised my hand to quell it. "It's probably safer for the both of us to stick together. I'll come with you past the border and then we can go our separate ways like planned."

"But that would take you off course by _weeks_," she said, astonished I was even suggesting something so ludicrous.

"I'd much rather not dream about you being tied up by Bulgarians for the rest of my life, _thanks_," I responded drily, picking up her bag and walking ahead.

And then there was that ridiculous laughing again. I felt my face break into a smile at the sound of it, glad that I'd won this round with her and glad I could still be _free _after all of this finished. It was like being told I could have vacation with pay. It was like Christmas had come early.

"Draco, you're going the wrong way!" she called back to me, her snickering too evident for me to ignore.

So instead I scowled, turned around, and marched dutifully behind her. She didn't stop laughing at me for a whole hour.

**A/N: And that's that. I really hope you guys enjoyed. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, actually. I also had a lot of fun talking to you guys this week! Make sure you let me know what you thought of this and what your expectations are for the two of them now that they're finally alone. Here's a sneak peek from the next chapter: **

"Your face just now was priceless," she informed me. "But I'm serious. I don't think I'll ever get married. It seems to ruin things for everyone. I don't want to wear a ring on my finger that signifies to everyone that I _belong _to someone else, you know?"

**Unsigned Reviews: **

**Guest: **Thank you! That is extremely kind. : )

**Christian: **Hello again! It's always fantastic to hear from you. Your level of enthusiasm really hits me, it does. I ALMOST don't need that third cup of coffee now! I do apologize for the delay between updates, though. I am trying to get better, but things have been crazy busy for me. If you decide to post the translation, do let me know so I can post up a link on my profile page. Thank you for reviewing!


	20. Sweet Nothing

**A/N: **A slightly more lighthearted chapter dedicated to a lovely reviewer by the name of Christian – Happy Birthday!

Thank you to all of you lovely people who reviewed the last chapter: Dancing-Souls, MEEC7, RolledupinOne, HarryPGinnyW4eva, Analena, irze, buttercup88, Lady Moonglow and Christian.

TWO HOUSEKEEPING THINGS:

1) Another reviewer was slightly confused about the context of the story and the status of the Bulgarian rebellion. I think it might be useful to reproduce my response for all of you just in case any of you guys are confused as well - go to my profile! I have also put there a plan for all of my projects (this one and everything in the near future). Have a looksee if you're interested.

2) November and December are going to be crazy months for me. This will very likely make my updating sporadic. Just wanted to give you guys a fair warning.

Finally, off we go!

**CHAPTER TWENTY: SWEET NOTHING**

When I exhaled, I could see my breath mist up in front of my face into puffs of condensation. I amused myself for a little while by pretending I was like old grandpa Abraxas, smoking a pipe when he thought no one could catch him at it. He would bribe me with sweets to ensure that I wouldn't rat his improper conduct to anyone else. Or maybe he had just felt lonely and had wanted to share his endless stash of sweets with someone. Who knows?

I sure as hell had felt lonely at all of those prim and proper get-togethers after he had died. I'd only been five when it had happened.

"What were your grandparents like?" I asked Hermione as we trudged along, almost randomly. At least, I had no sense of direction.

She looked up at me surprised. I wasn't sure whether the surprise was because we hadn't said a word to each other in the past two and a half hours (I had counted) or because the subject matter was so randomly out of the blue. Generally, she was the one who engaged in the random nonsensical discussions. Usually, I was just along for the ride.

What could I say? Sometimes a bloke fancied something different now and again.

She stepped over a protruding tree root and considered her answer carefully like she considered _all _of her answers carefully. "My grandma Rose was feisty. She had wild hair and a too wide smile. I think maybe she was the smartest person I ever knew. When grandpa died, she sort of just…"

"Just what?" I promoted when she didn't offer anything more. Hermione pursed her lips in thought. I got the impression that she hadn't thought about Grandma Rose in a very long time. I wondered why that was. "I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, that's okay," she responded slowly, thoughtfully. "It's just that she sort of withered away after that. I was maybe ten when it happened. One day grandpa was gone and the next day it was as if someone turned a switch off in her and she was just… different."

"Different how?"

"Just different," she said. The look on her face didn't give anything away. I was surprised. She was usually such an open book. "She didn't smile, didn't read - didn't do anything anymore. She didn't want to look me in the face, stopped talking to me about anything and _everything. _I couldn't understand why at the time. It was inconceivable to me that someone could just throw away everything they had because their loved one was gone. _I _wouldn't want to throw away my life like that."

The tone in her voice was bitter.

She was silent for a whole two minutes. I didn't say anything either, the look on her face was too intense. Perhaps her memories with her Grandmother ran much deeper than she was letting on. Perhaps it had affected her more than she was ever going to admit to herself. There was something else there that I just couldn't see. I wasn't sure that I _wanted _to see it.

"What happened?" I asked carefully, not sure why I was pushing this.

Hermione sighed. "I went away to Hogwarts the next year. By the time I came back home for the summer, she was gone. Took too many sleeping pills and one day she just didn't get up again."

"I'm sorry," I said, regretting drudging up these old memories for her. They certainly weren't pleasant. "That's…"

"Terrible?" She ventured. "Yeah, I suppose it is. It was better that way, though."

"What do you mean?" I asked. How on earth could death be a better option for someone? Anyone? It didn't seem like she was being tortured or deprived or anything like that. That someone like Hermione Granger, a human rights champion, would say something so… so out of character was just ridiculously jarring. "How can that ever be…"

"She was suffering," Hermione said. I noticed that throughout the lot of it, her stride never faltered. I could tell these things ran deeply within her, were important to her, but she was too strong for them to affect her. "She was _miserable. _I couldn't see it then, but I understand now. She didn't think life was worth living after grandpa passed away. It was better that she didn't have to do it anymore."

It was there on her face, the answer to what she thought about all of this. It was in the slight tightness around her eyes and the gentle pursing of her lips. I could see it in the way her shoulders tensed ever so slightly and how her stride lengthened just that half inch. Her fingers had twitched, I swear I hadn't dreamed that bit up. All of this meant more to her than she was letting on. Perhaps more than she realized herself.

"And you think she should have stuck it out," I guessed. It was a statement more than a question. It was obvious to me now, judging by the way she stopped, turned around, and stared at me with those pretty parted lips. "You think she wasn't brave enough to be alone?"

"I think it was a huge waste of potential. I can't ever imagine myself tying myself so tightly to someone to the point where I can't be a productive individual anymore," she said. Her voice was tight and breathless. This time her hands _did _clench. I wanted to go smooth them out, but I didn't think she'd let me. "How can you let someone dictate how your life works? How can you just let someone have that kind of power over you?"

I nodded because I understood. This was the one thing that Hermione Granger had gotten dead right about me and it was surprising. Of all things, why _this? _Of course I knew what it was like to not have control over myself, to have people dictate every little thing about my life. I had grown to develop an uncaring indifference to it because that's just the way things were and it was easier to live with it that way. But damn if I didn't feel a twinge of extreme deep loathing towards the lot of it. She got this. I could see it in the way she glared at the ground when she didn't think I was looking.

"So I guess marriage isn't your cup of tea then," I joked.

Thankfully she laughed, the smile breaking away all of the tension that had built between us. "Yes, but not for those reasons. I don't think I'll ever get married because I think the whole process is sexist and creates inequality between men and women."

I gaped at her and her serious expression before she burst out laughing.

"Your face just now was priceless," she informed me. "But I'm serious. I don't think I'll ever get married. It seems to ruin things for everyone. I don't want to wear a ring on my finger that signifies to everyone that I _belong _to someone else, you know? It never sat right with me. My mother refused to wear a wedding ring. If I ever do it, it'll have to be a commitment based on equality."

"Naturally," I commented drily. She laughed and bumped her shoulder against mine, the cheerful expression still on her face. "Such a free spirit, aren't you?"

I wondered how she'd feel about the kind of power she had over me, the kind of power I _let _her have over me. When it came to her, I really didn't have any control over myself. She dictated everything about my life. Even when I did make decisions on my own, she reversed them with just a flick of her little finger. When it came to her, I was powerless. If I told her, would she want to free me from this burden as well?

"So, what's your favourite colour?" she asked, snapping me out of my horrifyingly embarrassing thoughts. "And if you say green, I'm going to hold that against you for the rest of your life."

And on and on it went as we trudged along the path she'd selected for us.

/

It was nearing four in the afternoon when we reached the shore of a river. I suppose one could call it that – a river. It seemed to me to be some sort of force of brute monstrosity. It was roaring loudly, cutting right through the middle of this otherwise serene forest with such energy that it had eroded the ground hundreds of feet probably. Looking at it, the water just seemed angry to me.

Some industrious person had erected some sort of rickety structure that was supposed to pass for a bridge. At least, I think that's what it was. No one was even on the thing and it was swaying just by virtue of being suspended above the monstrosity that was this river. I gulped when Hermione stepped towards it, hopefully to inspect its stability and declare it a lost cause.

I think I heard some of the wood splinter when she tested one of the planks with her foot.

"This should be okay," she declared in that annoyingly bold fashion of hers. Of course Ms. Let's Go on an Adventure would think something as stupid as that. She had no consideration for her own safety, let alone _mine. _"Let's go."

Like fuck was I about to go anywhere near this thing.

"Maybe we can walk around it," I offered.

She waved a hand over her head as if to say what a ridiculous suggestion that was. Well, it wasn't. It was one of the most reasonable suggestions I'd had these last couple of weeks, especially when it came to considering her. She grabbed a hold of the rope that was precariously attached to the wooden, rotting, swinging bridge and began to make her way over the boards. Something was cracking, I swear it. I think I heard a snap.

"Seriously!" I shouted out to her, even though she didn't stop her progress. "We can find a better place to cross, Hermione. We should just – for fucks sake, be _careful!_"

"Relax! It'll be fine," she admonished, not even bothering to look over her shoulder to see if I was okay with this or not. I swear, she was some sort of thrill seeking dare devil. She wasn't even staring down at her feet. She could very easily lose her footing and fall to her death and then where would we be? There was no way I was jumping in after her. "Besides, that would take way too long. We don't even know whether there _is _another safe point of passage."

"_This_ doesn't look like a safe point of passage," I pointed out, but she was already half way across and the thundering river drowned my words in this monstrous noise. Just like it was probably going to drown me if this precarious bridge didn't hold my weight. I think that was quite a likely possibility as far as such things went. Hermione didn't turn around to see if I was even following. She just made her way across quickly and efficiently. "Well, here goes nothing."

Or everything. Here went everything.

I grabbed a hold of the rope to steady myself as I stepped onto the first plank. It didn't help. The bridge swung midair and I swung with it. I may have whimpered pathetically, but there were no witnesses so it might as well not have happened. I swallowed my sense of self preservation and made my way along extremely slowly and even more carefully. I was _not _about to die here, not like this.

It was all for nothing. I knew I had heard something crack. One of the boards gave way and it fell down into the raging rapids beneath me. I yelled out loud, I know I did. I have no idea if anyone heard it or not because Hermione didn't come rushing to my rescue, even though I was about to die here. I made the mistake of looking down – don't they always tell you never to look down? Well I did. All I could do was stare at the source of what was surely going to be my demise. The bridge was still swinging. I was going to throw up.

Correction: I would have thrown up if I could have moved.

I was paralyzed. Damn it. If I wet my pants, I was going to be a fucking embarrassment to all men of all statures. They were going to remember me as the boy who wet his pants. I ought to just jump now so Hermione could never find the evidence to ridicule me with.

"What's wrong?" she shouted back to me. She'd already reached the other side of the bridge.

Oh great. So she'd noticed that I hadn't been able to move. That was nice. Maybe she wasn't as unobservant as I had originally thought. Unfortunately, it was not enough to tear my eyes away from the sight of rushing water below me. If I was given the opportunity, I would choose to go back and fight more Bulgarians rather than die like this here. This was a lot more graceless. This was _stupid. _Why on earth had I ever agreed to this?

"I change my mind!" I shouted back. "I'm going back! I'm going to Romania!"

I could hear her laughing and it made me roll my eyes. I wanted to scowl, but that would require more concentration and looking away from the sight below me, neither of which were conceivably possible at this point in time. But of course she would find this funny. She was a Gryffindor at heart after all. She wasn't afraid of anything. She had no sense of self preservation. She jumped before she looked. Lions were stupid like that.

"What's wrong? Afraid of a little water?" she asked. She had somehow made her way back to me in a matter of seconds. Or was it minutes? In either case, how was that even possible? "Come on, Draco. You're going to be just fine."

"This is _not _fine," I hissed. She snickered and that made me look up at her and glare. Amusement lit up her eyes and the smile on her face was brighter than it had any right to be. I enjoyed seeing it more than I should have. I was supposed to be angry at her, after all. "This isn't funny!"

"On the contrary, I find this hilarious," she said with a smile. That just made me glare all the more and turn around so I could make my way back off this stupid fucking bridge. She grabbed my arms to keep me there, which just made the bridge swing wildly. I squeaked. I literally squeaked. She was holding back her laughter, I could see it on her face. "Come on. It's going to be fine. Just look at me and don't look down."

"Hermione, _no_," I said. Or more realistically, I moaned. My joints were locking up the more she tugged at me to get a move on. I clenched my teeth to make them stop chattering. "I can't do this. Just go without me. Let me _off-_"

"I'm not going to let you die, Draco," she said seriously. I realized she sincerely meant it, too. She was gripping my shaking hands and tilting my head up so I could keep my eyes on her. She smiled reassuringly, all of the amusement gone from her face. "It's going to be okay, alright? I'm here. Keep your eyes on me and we'll do this one step at a time."

And then she was tugging me with her over the dangerous bridge, my hands securely placed in hers. I didn't know how she navigated the thing without once taking her eyes off of me, but I don't think I saw her look down even once. Her hands were warm. Her eyes were warmer and reassuring. The roaring in my ears subsided a little. All I could see was her lips and her face and her eyes telling me that this was all _okay _even though it wasn't really. She was going to _make _it be okay.

"You okay?" she asked me once we had reached the midway point.

Considering that we were standing suspended right over the middle of a raging river, I suppose it could've been worse. I mean, the river could have been filled with piranhas or murderous merpeople or even batty Bulgarian rebels ready to tear our throats out. Or I could have been standing here by myself without her warm hands around mine. I could have been trapped with no way across.

"Could be worse," I muttered. She leaned forward to catch my mumbling and I automatically had to grasp her shoulders to steady her. If she fell, I was screwed. If she fell, _she _was screwed! "Would you please just be bloody _careful_? If I have to jump to my death to save you, so help me Merlin…"

She just smiled and I wondered whether she was ever going to take me seriously about anything ever again. I wanted to seethe but I was afraid she'd just turn around and leave me there by myself. I knew she could see all these thoughts play out on my face because she just shook her head and moved my head so I could look down. Unbeknownst to me, we'd already made the journey across. Somehow, she'd distracted me enough with her daredevil antics that I hadn't even paid attention to the actual crossing.

"Not so bad, was it?" she asked gently. It wasn't even condescending, just a genuine question.

"_No!_" I insisted. "We're never going to do anything like that ever again!"

She just rolled her eyes and ignored me, shifting past me to get back to the bridge. Before I could ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, she'd done a severing charm, sending the bridge tumbling down into the rapids. Soon, the ropes caught onto a rock and were tugged out of their holding on the other side. The bridge was soon swallowed up by the rushing water as easily as if it were just a flimsy piece of parchment.

And to think, that could have been us.

"Just in case someone decides to come this way," she said when she caught me staring at her. "It might slow them down a little. Might give us a little bit more time."

She truly did think of everything. She just shrugged when I continued to stare and made her way to the opening in the trees. I followed her because there wasn't much else to it. Her silence was comfortable, at least I assumed it was to her since I caught her smiling every so often. She guided the both of us through the trees. I still had no idea where I was going. I think she'd figured out how horrible a sense of direction I had.

"Thank you," I offered when it became clear she wasn't going to broach the topic. "For uh… dealing with me and making sure I didn't die."

She smiled and nudged her shoulder against my arm. "Thank you for coming back for me."

I suddenly felt burning hot.

/

Days passed and nights passed with them. As we made our way through the forest on foot, the rains came to greet us. I didn't know if this was something that was typical of Bulgaria, but it was cold and wet and muddy. Even though Hermione had sweaters and jackets, we didn't want to use magic to heat ourselves up - _just in case. _It would be so anti-climactic to get caught by the army now. We didn't want to risk it.

So it meant that we were utterly miserable. We were wet all the bloody time and all the colder for it. There was mud in places mud had no business being and I was rather sure I wasn't ever going to thaw ever again. My bones had been penetrated by this incessant rain and I was going to be waterlogged for the rest of my life. People were going to call me the water boy. The water bottle. The man who was filled with water.

Clearly, the rain was also messing with my head.

No, that couldn't be it. I'd grown up in the rain. England got rained on more than it had any right to and Hogwarts hadn't been placed in a better position. I was used to the rain. I used to walk to work in it and even enjoy the serenity. It wasn't messing with my head. More likely, it was everything _else _that was messing my head. It was the fault of the girl who said and did too many things.

Because it was so cold, she would walk closer to me to steal some of my heat. Eventually, she stopped being shy about it and we would walk hand in hand so her fingers wouldn't freeze to death. At night, she would hang her waterproof sheet over a branch and sleep against me as if I were the warmest, nicest pillow she'd ever had. It was as if personal space was a concept she had never heard of. I was just _there _with her and we were suddenly the best of friends – so why would any of this matter to her?

It mattered to me.

In the beginning, every time she touched me my heart would jump. My cheeks would heat up and I'd stumble a little. If she noticed, she didn't say anything at all. We just kept on going through this odd little routine she'd set up every single day until it wasn't odd to me anymore. Until it was almost _normal _for her to reach for my hand or to tuck her bushy little head against my neck night after night. Soon, I'd memorized the way she breathed and how it felt to put my arms around her.

It was insanity. She permeated my every pore, the very sense of my being. She was everything. In the day, I consumed the feel of her at my side. At night, I'd breathe in the scent of her, steal her warmth, and bask in the feel of her pressed against me. Eventually, the insanity of what we were doing became meaningless in my mind. As the days passed, the objections in my mind stopped too.

Soon, even the days began to blur together as we made our slow way through that forest. It almost felt like home. Wet and miserable, but _perfection. _

We never stopped talking. Well, more correctly, _she_ never allowed me to stop talking. She wanted to know everything about me. As if the invasion of my free will and my body wasn't enough for her, she wanted to know every deep, dark corner of my being. And she wanted to do it whilst wrapped around me to steal my warmth or when she had her arm linked through mine. When I looked into those big brown eyes and feel her touch me, how could I say no? How could I deny her _anything_?

So we spoke. She told me about her childhood, her miserable self-consciousness. I told her about how lovely it had been to grow up without caring about how to pay the bills. She spoke of her friends, of her work, of what held meaning in her life. I spoke about the little things that kept me going from day to day. Things like how much I loved the smell of clean laundry.

She smiled all the time. The broken parts inside me healed a little bit every time I saw it on her face.

One day, just a little after sunset, we found a little shed filled with logs. Hermione spent a good half an hour scouting the place with what little light we had left and came to the conclusion that it must belong to a muggle who apparently cut and stored firewood for a living – something called a _lumberjack_. The concept made no sense to me, but she wasn't really in the mood to explain. Either way, the roof of the little shed seemed sturdy and the wood was dry. There was just enough space for us to sleep next to it. For those few hours, we'd be happy and dry.

She seemed oddly pensive. She didn't ask any questions during dinner and only gave brief responses to any attempts I made. I respected that. Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps she had had her fill of me and wanted to be done. Maybe there was nothing more to say. Maybe she was homesick. In any case, I watched her discretely. She didn't notice. She _never _notices.

I turned around for her while she changed, like I did every night. And just like every night, I was hyper aware that there was a girl who was about to get naked behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to breathe normally, because that's the only thing that got me through it. She never seemed to have a problem with it. Perhaps she had no sense of awkwardness.

After she gave me what little privacy she could so I could change, we hung up our clothes to dry by morning. I lay down first like I always did. There was no way that I was ever going to go crawling to her to steal her warmth, though she didn't seem to have any problems coming to me. That was probably because this didn't mean anything to her. This was probably just a way to get warm – a necessity. For me, though, it was everything. I couldn't play games. I couldn't make myself cross any lines with her.

After all, after this we would never see each other again. I had to be careful.

That night though I was afraid she was going to choose not to come lay next to me. Her mood from dinner had carried over. I could see it in her posture as she stood before me and watched me lay there. It was the kind of rejection I was used to by now, of course, but the consideration on her face made my heart hurt a little. So I closed my eyes. If this is how she wanted to play it, I was going to let her. What other choice did I have?

A minute later, I felt her lay next to me and press her little head against my chest like she did almost every night. The tension inside me released, even though I could still feel her hesitance. She was giving me this one night at the very least. I was going to make it count. I turned onto my side and put my arm around her. This was normal – normal for _us _in this goddamn forest – and she didn't object. In fact, she only pressed closer, putting her cold little nose against my collarbone. I didn't even flinch. It was all so routine.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked eventually, her voice hesitant.

"Sure," I responded easily. Since when did she ask my permission? Something was clearly off, had been for hours. I didn't want to scare her off, not if she was going to be forthcoming about it. "Anything you want."

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she qualified. Her hand was pressed into my shirt at my side, clutching me.

"Okay…" She had never offered me an out before. "What is it?"

"What is it like in London now?" she asked tentatively.

"Hm?"

"I haven't gone home in so long," she said gently. She didn't say anything else for a couple of moments and I became confused. What did this have to do with me? But then… "When I came back, when I met you again… It's just – I couldn't believe what I was seeing."

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I've been fighting for equality all around the world these last few years," she said with a sad little sigh. "I've been representing my people, my _government. _I chose to ignore all the bad things that were going on at home just so I wouldn't have to deal with my own petty, selfish problems and I just – when I look at you and who you are now and what's happened-"

"Hermione," I said, rubbing my hand over her back. Something was growing within me, listening to her admission. It was warm and it was terrifying. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

"I just…" She was near tears, I could sense it even before it happened. I tried to soothe her as best as I could, but nothing helped. "I fought a war for equality and left everyone else to deal with the aftermath. I didn't question anything. I didn't stand up for what I believe in. I didn't help you-"

And then there were tears in my eyes too. It was the first time I hugged her out of my own free will and she froze for a second before melting into me and bursting into tears. I wondered how long she'd been holding all of this inside of her, all of this pent up guilt. It made me re-evaluate what she saw when she looked at me. Was I the picture of her moral failure? If so, how was I meant to show her that none of this was her fault?

How was I supposed to show her how thankful I was that she knew and she _cared_?

"It could be worse," I told her when she was breathing even again. "We could've had a rebellion, another war. We haven't. I think they've put a good lid on it for the meanwhile, at least."

"Draco," she breathed. She pressed her hand over my heart and stared up at me. Her eyes were shiny and wet and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. "You're so different."

I raised a brow. "You mean from the prat I used to be when we were children?" She nodded shamelessly with a sheepish smile on her face. I scowled. "That does tend to happen, yes, as you age."

She giggled softly, but I knew this kind of humor wasn't enough to lift her spirit. I knew because she refused to let me go and leant into me when I didn't end the voluntary hug. It made me feel so important that she needed me like this. It made me feel strong that I was useful for something and not completely reliant on her.

"I promise you, when I get back I'm going to work as hard as I can to fix this," she said. She was so determined her body was practically vibrating with conviction. It made me soar a little inside. "I'll begin my campaign the second we get back."

"The second you get back," I automatically corrected, cringing a little at the reminder. "I won't be going all the way with you."

"That's right," she said softly. So she had forgotten our arrangement too. I cleared my throat and her arms loosened a little around me. Her smile was a little sad when she finally looked up at me again. "Maybe you'll be able to come back when I'm finished."

"Yes," I agreed. I was relieved that she was making light of it, even though I'd killed the moment. Even though the concept was ridiculous. "Maybe."

"Thank you for understanding," she sighed, resting her head on my chest again. I didn't let go of her. The reminder that this was going to end in the near future was enough to make me want to greedily take whatever it was I could get. "I don't think I would have had the strength to… admit to anything, to do any of it if you weren't here."

"What, like a physical reminder?"

She giggled again, this time a lot more genuinely. "Yeah, something like that."

As she drifted off to sleep, I steeled myself. Watching her I realized that Victor Jr. had been right. If I wasn't careful, I was going to fall deeply in love with this woman. The problem was people like her never made it work out with people like me. But love was like sweetness. It had no rhyme or reason. It simply was.

And with her, I simply could _be. _

**A/N: This was meant to be the halfway point chapter, but we're a bit behind. As my plan stands, that will be chapter 22. If you want to know the general status of how I plan to get this story done and word for **_**When a Stranger Calls, **_**that information is now on my profile. Have a great week! Until next time: **

"This isn't a bad place to get clean," she pointed out.

My mouth went dry at her suggestion. "What, _together_?"

**Unsigned Reviews: **

**MEEC7: **Ha ha ha. I know my updating schedule has been sporadic as of late, but I'm trying! I really am! I would kill to see that Halloween costume by the way. ; ) Glad you're enjoying.

**Irze: **I'm glad you liked it! I'm a little nervous about the feminist bit in this chapter, though it does play an important role later on in the story. Let me know what you thought of it in its full context. Thank you for reviewing. : )

**Lady Moonglow: **Yes, no, maybe so! I wonder what you think of your prediction after reading this chapter. I also think what I actually have planned might surprise (and maybe irritate you), but all in good time. We've a long way to go before we reach that particular climax. To comment on Draco's obliviousness I think it's a half and half kind of thing personally (or at least that's what I'm going for). Thank you, as always, for reviewing.

**Christian: **First off, happy belated birthday! 16 is an exciting year. I wish you the best in everything that you do. Secondly, I was very touched how much this story means to you. It's always special when someone connects deeply with anything that I write. I apologize that I wasn't able to post until just now, but I did try my absolute best. This chapter is most definitely dedicated to you. Hope you have a great week and that the celebrations were fantastic!


	21. Drunken Love

**A/N: ABOUT THE DELAY: **I'm sorry for keeping you all waiting. This chapter was a monster to write because it required me to be rather happy, do you know what I mean? When I was happy I didn't feel like writing and when I was ready to write I wasn't happy. But anyway, hope you all enjoyed your holidays and a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU!

**ABOUT THIS CHAPTER: **It's a bit of a filler, I shan't lie. The next chapter officially marks the halfway point of the plot. I'll let you know how many chapters are left when I figure it out.

**LASTLY: **Thank you to the lovely reviewers: Irze, WildRose22, MEEC7, HarryPGinnyW4eva, DramioneInLove, RolledupinOne, Dancing-Souls, galaapple12, Christian, Sophie, silver, and .account.

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: DRUNKEN LOVE **

Soon, the raging river turned into a wide and gentle lake. I wasn't fooled, though. Even though I couldn't see the current, I knew it was probably there, waiting to deceive unwary travellers and suck the lot of us into its unforgiving depths. Hermione thought I was crazy, but she did have this whole daredevil complex going on. She tells me that that really isn't a thing. I think she needs to learn when to admit that she's wrong.

Not that I would ever say that out loud to her. She did have a hand in my food preparation more often than not, after all.

After that one awkward night of tearful confessions had passed, we were even more comfortable around each other. She had never been shy about snuggling up to me in the cold, wet nights. But now I felt alright throwing an arm around her shoulder or sleeping with my face pressed between her shoulder blades. I even stopped panicking every time I woke up with her wrapped completely inappropriately around me. I just took it as it was.

She never brought up the plight of the British purebloods again. I think we both agreed that that was something we ought to leave alone for the time being. I think she could feel our time slipping away from us as well and she just wanted to enjoy what was left of it in peaceful silence. I wondered if this was some kind of vacation for her. For me, this was the golden time. Even though travelling through a forest on foot can be considered drudgery, doing this with her was something like a little heaven. I was never going to have anything like this ever again.

Eventually, it stopped raining too. The sun came out to say hello to us and warmed our backs as we walked along. Hermione never seemed to be in a hurry and I wondered why that was exactly. If I were her, I'd be rushing as quickly as possible towards the border. I'm not sure if I would even bother stopping at night like we did every day. Maybe she was as afraid of what her life was going to hold for her when she finally got back.

For me, starting life could wait. This was a sort of escape from reality. Her smiles and carefree spirit lit me up from inside to the point where I could feel myself glowing like a little lamp. No amount of rain could dampen my spirits, or even the threat of drowning in a raging river. Smiling came easy and laughing came even easier. We moved to our future with lighter hearts than we began.

When she held my hand these days I didn't even question what life would be like without this. It was a dangerous thing to have done.

One golden afternoon, we reached a brilliant small waterfall, pounding over a shallow cliff. It was something of a beauty, raising up puffs of mist and creating rainbows. There was a deer, sipping from the river bank not too far from us. It didn't hear us approach from the roar of the water. Hermione grinned at it, grinned at me, and grinned at everything around us. I hadn't seen her this happy… _ever. _

"This isn't a bad place to get clean," she pointed out.

My mouth went dry at her suggestion. "What, _together_?"

She raised a brow at me whilst shrugging off her – admittedly – filthy sweater. She nodded her head to the water and I wanted to smack myself. Of course she meant _together. _It wasn't like we had stumbled upon a bath. We were out in the open. Obviously there was no modicum of privacy in a situation like this! I was a graceless idiot. I was the picture of stupidity. I was –

_Entranced_.

She was stripping to her knickers and I realized I couldn't hear a word she was saying to me, even though her lips were obviously moving. I'd just tuned her out, too focused on what her innocent little hands were doing. All I could see was her skin coming into view and how comfortable she felt barring herself in her little shorts and undershirt.

To be fair, these were her regular sleep clothes but she'd donned them under her clothes as undergarments, since the both of us had run out of clean underwear a while ago. But there was just something startling about watching this woman take her clothes off shamelessly before me, as if it was a common place thing. She wasn't even sparing me a glance, too excited about the prospect of getting _clean. _

I was startled to realize that this _was_ common place, or at least it was to her. She had been undressing in my vicinity for a while now. Only this time I wasn't turning away and she didn't seem to care one way or another. For her, this was entirely innocent. It should have been innocent for me, but it wasn't. It couldn't have been in any context. By gods, though. If only she knew what I was thinking, she would've been more careful about exposing herself. Or, I suppose, being around me in general.

It must seem pathetic now. I feel pathetic just saying it. It wasn't that I'd never seen a woman take off her clothes before or been around the opposite sex in any state of undress. We had had recreational swimming activities all the time in the past and some of those girls surely did show up in less than what Hermione was wearing now, but…

I suppose it had been a long time. I just couldn't help but stare.

When she dived into the river head first with a high pitched squeal of joy, I was startled out of my reverie. She swam to the waterfall before she even noticed that I hadn't even attempted to join her. It took her splashing at me and giving me that piercing pointed look for me to begin awkwardly shedding my clothes.

I knew she was staring and I knew my face was bright red, but there was nothing to be done for this situation. It wasn't like I could tell her to turn away since I had shamelessly watched her take off _her _clothes. That would be hypocritical. Turning away seemed like too much of a childish thing to do. All I could do was shakily take off my filthy clothing and pretend like she wasn't staring at me.

I knew how I must have looked to her. As much as I had spent my childhood being so, I wasn't delusional. Skipping meals and not having anything substantial for years did things to one's body – and not good things either. I was skinny. I was lanky. I was _boney. _I knew this. Most of all, I knew I was extremely unattractive. It was undeniable. I was pale and sickly and ghostly.

And she was a beautiful ray of sunshine with that tanned skin and definition that clearly meant she spent time taking care of herself. Looking at her made me want to wrap my arms around myself and maybe try drowning after all. Instead, I just jumped into the water, hoping it would hide most of the hideousness from her eyes.

"Bloody hell!" I said instead, almost jumping back out to the bank. "Why didn't you warn me it was _cold!" _

"Always such a baby," She giggled and splashed me, shrieking when I splashed her back. "You'll get used to it."

Soon she was floating on her back, eyes closed, and face upturned to the sky. This was no longer about necessarily getting clean. It was more so about relaxing, letting the tension seep away from her bones. I still cannot fathom what it was she was holding inside her that day that needed to be released. The gentle smile on her face blinded me. It still blinds me if I close my eyes and think back to it.

"It's not that cold," she said, cracking an eye open and looking in my way. She smiled more fully when she saw me staring at her. "It's actually quite warm."

_Looking at you, _I thought, _everything is warm. _

I think she knew what I was thinking, because she kicked water in my face and treaded away before I had the opportunity to be annoyed. She was already halfway towards the mini waterfall, her stroke surprisingly steady. But of course it would be. She was strong. She had always been perfectly capable of everything physical except for riding a broom.

There was nothing else for it. If I was going to play this game, I was going to have to play by her rules. And that meant keeping up. I clasped my hands together and dove forward, swimming as fast as I could in her general direction. I used to be able to swim well. We would vacation to France or Italy every summer and I'd be up and down beaches for _hours. _Not that my complexion showed it, ever.

But now those muscles felt unused, almost like they didn't belong to me at all. I'd only made it a couple of meters when I felt the strain in my arms, the cramp in my side, and the lack of air in my chest. I'd barely moved at all when I thought I was going to die, bursting out from under the water and gasping for air as if there was a lack of it in this world.

"Come on, slow poke!" she called out to me, already sitting up on a rock near the waterfall. "It'll be dark before you can catch me at that rate!"

That made me scowl. She could apparently see it from _all the way over there _and I could hear her tinkling laughter in response. Suddenly I was glad I was in this frigid water and glad that I couldn't quite keep up with her. This distance was necessary. It was especially necessary when she was in her knickers and sitting there all bare, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Finally," she said, when I got there. I rolled my eyes. "I think I must've aged a year, just watching you."

"Is that so?" I asked.

"Yes-"

But she didn't get to finish that answer because I'd reached out and shoved her back into the water. She squealed in delight on the way down and stuck her tongue out at me after she resurfaced.

"How old do you feel now, Granger?" I mocked with a smile.

She grinned. "Like I'm eleven again."

And then she reached up and grabbed my ankle so that I fell in with her. Before I could catch her for my revenge, though, she was gone, swimming away from me like a darting little fish.

/

We were on the bank of the river where we'd left our things earlier. She had somehow produced a little box of laundry detergent from her never ending bag. It had amazed me so much that she'd burst out laughing at me. She didn't find it to be odd at all, finding a bit of detergent in her bag. I told her that most people didn't just wander around with these kinds of things tucked away.

"I'm between houses," was all she'd said.

I had had to shrug it off. She was an odd bird. There was nothing else to it.

So we set ourselves to the task of washing our clothes in the river. I was used to washing my clothes in a bucket in my bathtub back at home, so this wasn't too much of a change for me. I imagined someone like Granger could just set her clothes to magically wash themselves. I knew for a fact that muggles had devices that did these kinds of things for them. Perhaps she used them, too. But she just sat next to me, her feet dangling in the river, and did the job without complaint. She even had a smile on her face.

But of course this odd woman wouldn't have any problems washing dirty clothes in a Bulgarian river. Of course not. She was the essence of resourcefulness, after all. I wonder how much of a liability I was to her then. If it weren't for me and she was stuck out here all on her own, I bet she would've been back home by now. What had she gone through that had made her this way? What secrets was she holding within herself?

I wanted to see. No, I wanted her to show me.

"What's that?" she asked suddenly, pointing to something beyond me.

I turned to look at what had caught her attention, only to find a creature staring at me. It had beady little eyes and it was staring into my soul, as if I had killed its creature wife, or something. In retrospect, it was only a beaver or a squirrel or a rodent of a similar size, but just because they're small doesn't mean they don't want to kill you and don't the lot of them carry incurable diseases and poisons and filth?

Anyway.

What's important is that I did not scream. No ma'am. I only gasped a little and scrambled backwards to get away from the unidentified but clearly murderous object. The only problem with that was that the rocks were slippery with river water and the detergent we had been using to wash our clothes. I slipped. I fell ungraciously right onto my back at her feet. It hurt like a bitch.

The creature scurried away completely unharmed, carrying its respective diseases with it.

I stared up at Hermione, who was trying her hardest not to laugh at me. It was obviously a failed attempt because when had she ever given up an opportunity to laugh at me? She giggled as I lay before her at her feet and I had to scowl up at her. And then she laughed, all bells and sunshine, and it lit up the whole forest. The setting sun lit her up from behind. And then she was glowing. And then I was enchanted.

And then I knew I must've been drunk off the river water. Or perhaps the creature had bit me when I hadn't been looking. I was drunk. I was intoxicated. I was feeling a little bit woozy. Or dizzy. Or both.

"Are you afraid of the little squirrel, too?" she asked me sweetly, her smile as brilliant as the setting sun. "I'm sure it only wanted to be your friend."

"Ha bloody ha," I grumbled. She tried to stifle a giggle by offering me a hand up, but when she tugged I collapsed. I felt a spasm shoot up my leg. I knew the little thing had disabled me after all! All I could do was stare at her bewildered and say, "Ow!"

"What's wrong?" she asked, the smile gone and that characteristic good willed concern back in place.

"My leg."

She crouched down before me and made me remove my hands. I let her, of course, because I had long since learned it was futile to interfere with her fussing. She gripped and prodded and scientifically explored my leg while I watched her do it all. While we were sat there with barely any clothes on. Whilst we were still rather wet and her sleep shorts were clinging to her and had gone a little bit see through –

"Ow!" I exclaimed at a particularly brutal prod.

Perhaps she had sensed the direction my thoughts had gone. How embarrassing.

"Well, it's not broken," she said with a smile. _That goddamn smile. _"It's just a cramp, I think. Here, let me help you."

And then her hands were on my painfully twitching leg, trying to work that kink out. She didn't even take a second to think that this was my personal space she was invading with those _perfect bloody fingers_. She worked them into my calf and my whole body jerked, as if her fingers were the key and I had just started up. My blood thrummed in my veins and when she pressed, I quivered. Like I was the broom and she was the rider. In a non-sexual sense. Obviously.

Obviously. _Obviously. _

What wasn't so obvious was what I was feeling right in that moment. I wanted to just still those nimble little fingers, grasp her perfect little face, pull her to me and kiss her before she could process anything in that overly large brain of hers and still her with my lips and a gasp of air and fingers that just wanted to touch every single goddamn place I could reach –

"Did I press too hard?" she asked. "You look a little red."

_Not hard enough, _I wanted to say. _I want to see how you'd look red too. _

And then I leaned towards her and tilted her head towards me by her chin. I exhaled against her lips before pressing mine softly against hers and she clutched at me, because she was as floored as I was. I licked at her lips and at her teeth and at her tongue and then she gripped me harder and I kissed her harder and she gripped my hair and I –

"Draco?" she said, her fingers quitting the massage mission. "Are you alright?"

And then I grasped her head, just above her neck to pull her closer and she let me – no, she wanted me to, because she gripped me closer too and we scrambled – no, we fought to be closer – and she kissed me back because she wanted it too – and we were both gasping and maybe I moaned and maybe she did too, and _those goddamn fingers _–

"Draco?"

I shook my head.

"Yes?" Perhaps my voice was weak. "Yes."

"Are you alright?" she asked again. I nodded. "Are you sure?"

I nodded again and she put her hand on mine, which was on her shoulder. When had I done that? I wasn't imagining that. I wasn't imagining anything anymore. This was real. I held my breath. This was real. I held it until I was dizzy and had to gasp. Her eyelids drooped and she gently leaned towards me. My heart was beating even faster now. She could hear it, I was sure. This was _real. _It was in my ears like a beating drum.

"Hermione," I whispered.

_This was real. _

"Yes?" she asked. Her voice was breathy. She was close enough to share my air.

"I…"

"Yes?" she prompted but my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I couldn't breathe. "Draco."

When she said my name, my eyes slipped shut and I could almost feel her breath on my cheek, she was that close. I wasn't dreaming. This was real. _I wasn't dreaming. _I couldn't be. Things like this couldn't be imagined and I lacked imagination in the first place. Her hand was on mine still, clasped over her shoulder, and we were there together just breathing in that moment before _everything changes. _

She was going to change everything and I wanted her to. Goddamnit, did I want her to.

"Draco, I…"

"Yes," I whispered. _Do it. _It wasn't a question. "Yes."

I opened my eyes when she exhaled. Hers were still closed – when had she closed them? - her hand clenched tight in the fabric of her shorts, the other still gripping mine. Her lashes framed her cheeks. Her lips were parted. If I leaned forward, I'd be able to have what I wanted, what I'd wanted this whole time, what I _needed _to take from her. I could close that little inch of space between us and _change everything. _This was real. I wasn't dreaming. I could finish this and maybe she would give it to me.

Then I saw her tremble and I remembered how she had trembled in my arms, scared of a little thunder, how she had shook because of her laughter as we danced in that ugly garden, and how we had both shaken with exhaustion on our flight away from the city.

I saw her shake and I remembered all that and how she had trusted me with everything. I looked at her and I couldn't breach this trust when she really didn't want this, how nervous she was, how she _shook with the tension of this. _I looked at her and I realized I couldn't do this to her, couldn't take away anything more from her than I already had.

"Thanks…" I said, my voice slightly strangled. I had to force myself to let go of her. I cleared my throat and she opened her eyes. "For helping me, I mean."

"Of course," she said. There was something in her eyes. Maybe it was disappointment. Maybe it was relief. She had loosened her grip on her fistful of shorts. "Is it better?"

"Yes," I said with a sigh. I still wanted it – _her _– desperately, but I realized that she probably didn't want to give it to me. But that was going to have to be okay, I realized. Because this was more than I was deserving of already. I strengthened my resolve and took a calming breath, leaning back away from her. I said, "Yes."

She smiled, but it was a little dimmed. I didn't know what to say to her, how to calm her, how to get rid of this air that we'd built around us in the space of those few moments, so I said nothing. She moved to sit next to me and together we sat side by side and watched the sun set over the river. It was beautiful. It was the last peaceful moment I had with her for a very long time.

She didn't say anything, either, but that night she still curled up against me like every other day and we settled in to sleep at the riverbank. When I was sure she was asleep, I kissed the top of her head and memorized the feel of her.

I didn't know she was as awake as I was. I missed the curve of her smile.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! It was a little psychotic and all over the place, but it was (I think) a little bit necessary for what's going to happen ahead. It's a little shorter than usual, so forgive me for that. Any updates to the posting schedule, my life (if you care), and random stuff will always be on my profile. **

**In the meanwhile, here's a sneak peek of the next chapter: **

The next thing I knew, I was sitting chained to an iron chair in a dark interrogation room, somewhere deep in the Ministry. The walls were bare, the room pretty much empty except for the table and chair and my uneven breathing.

**Unsigned Reviews: **

**Irze: **I'm glad you enjoyed it! This was definitely the part of the story I had in mind when I came up with the idea. I'm also glad Hermione's egalitarian views don't rub you the wrong way. It's always a fifty-fifty kind of thing with most people. I apologize for the long wait and all, but we'll get there. I promise. Thank you for reviewing!

**Christian: **Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed. It's a theme that I really do like to keep on with because it has a lot of personal relevance to my own life. Hope you had a great vacation and thank you for the well wishes.

**Sophie: **Thank you for your enthusiasm! I apologize for the delay.

**Silver: **Thank you for your reviews. Sorry for the panic and I'm glad you're enjoying! Stay strong. I just want to say, I can't really respond to you unless you sign into your account and post your reviews that way. Thanks again! M.


	22. Say Goodbye to my Darling

**A/N: **So I could give you all of my very legitimate excuses, but I'm sure what you guys really want to do is get on to reading the chapter. Updates, as always are on my profile.

_WE ARE OFFICIALLY HALF WAY DONE! _

Hello to the new readers. Leave me a note and say hello if you're so inclined!

**Thank you to the lovely reviewers**: DramioneInLove, HarryPGinnyW4eva, Witbeyond, buttercup88, Mistress-Cinder, SimpsonSortia, .account, irezei, if-inconvenient-come-anyways, Elantil, kitcatscratch, Kurai Ummei, LM1, RolledupinOne, Sora, silver, and finkles89.

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: SAY GOODBYE TO MY DARLING**

It was a funny feeling, not waking up before Hermione.

She might have the work ethic of Dumbledore, but Gods did she enjoy to have a good lie in. At least, she did when she could reasonably afford it. These last days where she had had the opportunity to be lazy had been amusing to say the least. I would wake at the crack of dawn as my body was accustomed to and she would always be curled up beside me like a cat, her hair a big mess surrounding _both _of our heads, and some of her limbs sprawled while others were not.

She slept like she behaved when she was awake – taking up an unimaginable amount of space for someone who was that small and filling up the atmosphere with particles of her energy.

But _that _day was something special.

Somehow, she had defied the odds and had been awake before even the sun had come up. Maybe she could feel things between us had shifted. Maybe she was just as charged as I had been last night with whatever it was that I had brought between us. Maybe she was just concerned about our washed clothes that we had laid to dry by the rocks. They were all neatly packed away by the time I got up.

Well, knowing her, it probably _had _been concern over the washing. She was a little bit mental like that.

I didn't even get the chance to mourn the loss of her warmth next to me because she was already there, shoving some porridge into my hands as breakfast and fluttering around our campsite, looking for nonexistent things she might have forgotten to pack. I heard her chattering at me, I registered it at some level in my brain, but it was too early in the day for her ramblings. You can't honestly blame me for it. She spoke faster than Potter had caught the snitch in our first year.

I yawned and she didn't even bother noticing that I couldn't understand a thing she was saying. It was all travelling east and catching a bus and walking and walking and passports. What was a passport? Was that some new kind of portkey I just didn't know existed? But when she said by _today, _I had to stop her and shake my head.

"Today what?"

She huffed and sighed and pouted and all I could do was smile guiltily. "You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?"

"Nope," I said, popping the P. She glared, but it lacked any heart. I wondered if _this _was why she was awake so early – unnecessary nervous energy. "Why don't you give me the condensed summary? Bullet points, Granger. It's too early for one of your lectures right now."

And it was. The sun was just beginning to rise behind us. She rolled her eyes in mock disgust. I wanted to pretend to be annoyed or offended or something amusing like that, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face. It was just there. I didn't bother trying to keep it from her. Why would I, anyway? There was no reason to do something like that anymore.

Her face softened. "If I calculated right, we're only an hour or two away at the most from the nearest muggle town. We should be there before opening hours and then we can take a bus."

_A town_.

That was… a development.

When had she made these calculations? What _bus_? Had she shared these things with me and I'd just tuned her out? Or had she snuck it by me when I was asleep? Had I just been _sleeping_? This whole entire time – this whole entire escape trip – had I just been completely bloody absent? I had somehow forgotten that the whole point of this journey was to get her home. My heart was beating harder than normal. I had to swallow it down and compose myself. If I tried hard enough, I could pretend I had seen this coming all along.

"The bus should easily take us past the border. I've muggle travel papers for it. To cross the border, I mean. I spent the morning magicking it together, so it should be fine," she said. She wrung her hands in front of her and stared at me with undue concern. What was she so concerned about? "Once we get over the border it should be easy to just get on a plane or maybe even take a train back home."

"Sounds good," I said. Maybe I sounded a little flat. I forced myself to clear my throat and pin up that smile again to my face. "Sounds… right on track. When do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready to go," she said.

I could tell by the tone of her voice that she didn't buy my charade for even one second.

/

We reached the outskirts of the town in just over three hours, walking slower than we had for this entire dream of a trip. We seemed to be rather early, even though we had dawdled. The residential streets we walked through were all quiet, not one sign of life animating the streets. I followed her silently, staring at the back of her head as she navigated us towards the bus station. She had tied her hair back, so I could see the back of her bare delicate little neck.

It made me calm for some reason.

I wasn't sure if this was the last peaceful moment I was going to have with her, and in this Bulgarian muggle town no less. Perhaps this was the last time I would be alone with her. Everyone around us here were tucked safely away inside their perfect little houses and asleep. There was no pressure to do anything, to be anyone. Not just yet. We were still those two people finding our way through the forest. There was nothing but our footsteps here, marching away to our futures.

Our very separate futures.

I caught up to her and stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. She stopped abruptly, staring at me in confusion. A million thoughts flew through my mind, things I knew I should say to her now before we moved on any further. Things I wanted her to know. Probably things she had a right to know. I grasped her hand and my mouth went dry. It was now or never, wasn't it? I should just spit it out.

_Just tell her, Draco. Tell her how perfect she is. _

"What's wrong?" she prompted.

"I, ah…" But I couldn't say it. I could feel the motivation turn into a pit that settled uncomfortably in my stomach. I couldn't risk that concerned look in her eyes turn back into that horrid pity. "Are we going the right way?"

She nodded, pointing at a sign that I obviously couldn't read, considering it was in Bulgarian. I had forgotten she was fluent. How had I forgotten such a crucial detail? She started explaining the directions, the layout of the place, how she had come here last year with Davies and that they had done their initial campaigning with the purebloods that lived in the hidden Wizarding sector of the town.

For my part, I wasn't sure if I could unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth to give her a proper response, such was my nervousness. I wondered if it was ever going to be possible to say the things I needed to say to her. I wasn't even sure if it was a smart thing to divulge these kinds of secrets to anyone, let alone to her. She was Hermione Granger, after all, despite everything we had gone through together.

And after we crossed the border, she was going back to her life and I… I was moving on.

_How was I ever going to move on from this? _

As we reached the almost deserted bus station, devoid of everyone besides the first customers ambling along their various journeys like us, she dropped my hand and moved towards the teller. I stood by her awkwardly as she bought us tickets, completing the transaction with the sleepy man in perfect Bulgarian and a smile. I didn't know how she could be so bright and cheery so early in the morning. I wondered if she missed holding my hand as much as I missed holding hers already.

I wondered if she was happy to be so close to getting home. I wondered if she was going to be happy to get away from me. _Forever. _

"Here. It looks like we have enough time to get coffee before our bus leaves."

She was walking away from me just like that and I wondered if this is how it was going to feel like in a couple hours' time, when she could just apparate away. Forever. When she noticed I wasn't following, she turned around and arched a brow.

"Coming? It's just this way."

"Yeah…" I mumbled, trailing after her. I must have looked like a trained little dog, I thought. But perhaps that was exactly what I was at that point. "Coming."

The coffee was pretty shit, but neither of us complained about it. We sat side by side on a bench in the bus station, waiting for our bus to arrive and collect us. There was about an inch of space between us, heated with all the things we hadn't yet said to each other. The longer we sat there, the more tense I became. She didn't say a thing. Didn't say _anything at all. _We just sat there and sipped coffee that neither of us really wanted.

What else was there to do when you knew everything was about to come to an end?

It was almost a relief to sit on that cramped little muggle bus. At least there was a pretense for the silence there. Everyone was quiet, all of us travellers much too tired to engage in any conversation. And I was more than happy to jump on that silence and let it surround me. It was too early for anyone here to be excited about where they were going, too travel weary to want to do anything but sleep.

For me, I was dreading the end of this journey. Once it finished, I didn't know what I would do or where I would go or how I would leave her behind.

I decided in that second that she was going to have to do the leaving. I don't think I could bear it, ever.

"Don't worry, Draco," Hermione whispered to me. I glanced at her and she smiled at me. Then she rested her head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her instinctually. "We'll be there soon enough and then this will all be over."

As she napped against me, I exhaled.

"That's the point, silly bird," I whispered back when I was sure she was asleep. "That's the whole point."

And then I napped, too, holding that heavy weight right in the centre of my chest.

/

"Draco," she whispered, shaking my arm.

I jolted awake, instantly alert. She didn't let go of my arm, maybe because she was concerned that I was going to jump out of my seat and attack someone. My heart was beating rapidly. There must be a crisis going on for her to have woken me up so abruptly. Perhaps we had to leave this cramped muggle bus behind immediately and make a run for it back to the forest.

"Whassit? Whas goin' on?" I mumbled, my mouth too filled with wool to form words properly.

"We've stopped for some food," she said, trying to hide her smile at my assuredly idiotic antics and failing miserably. "We should get out and stretch our legs."

Food? She had woken me up for food? And like _that_? I shut my mouth firmly, nodded, and stoop up on my weak feet so she could vacate her seat. I wondered if that was the only reason she had disrupted my slumber, because she was trapped against the window. Stretching there in the cramped little aisle, I wondered if she had felt sorry for my legs.

She grasped my hand in hers when I jumped out of the bus. That never failed to send a jolt of pleasure through me, even now. I figured she would kick this habit, now that we were almost out of the country and at the end of our adventure. It couldn't be healthy to cling. It would only create problems when we reached the inevitable end at the border. I wondered what she was playing at. And why. Yet, I wished she'd keep going with it, whatever it was.

I wished she never stopped.

I was, after all, an addict. I was looking forward to my next fix, even as she dragged me towards the little diner the rest of the bus had clearly already fled to.

I yawned as we were seated, trying to stretch but encountering her legs under the table. What was it with all of these cramped spaces? She didn't move, didn't ask me to move, and just smiled. So, I pretended like it was normal to sit with your legs pressed against a pretty girl.

And just like that I'd gotten my next fix. What a thrill.

I waved away her attempts to translate the menu for me. I was content to just trust her judgement. Well, really, I was just content to sit there, sort of touching her, and staring at her face. Surely there was nothing better in this world than sitting down and staring at Hermione Granger's face.

Merlin. I'd lost it. Listening to myself think, I'd really lost it. If I didn't do something about it, I wasn't going to get out of this will my brain intact.

"How much longer are we going to be trapped on that god forsaken bus?" I groaned. I had to make sure I got out of this with whatever sanity I had left. She was going to leave me as an automaton, I could feel it happening to me now as I sat there. "I don't think I can last much longer."

"Really?" she smiled as the server dropped sandwiches before us. "You seemed like you were enjoying your nap. Your mouth was wide open and you were snoring like a dragon."

I'm sure I was blushing, so I didn't look up at her, focusing instead on the sandwich.

"I don't snore," I mumbled hotly.

She giggled and nudged my foot with hers. "Alright, you don't snore. But you sure did look adorable, all knocked out like that. All the other girls on board agreed."

"Liar," I sniffed, shrugging it off whilst discreetly looking around the little diner at the other patrons. I wanted to check for wandering eyes. "And they're all _old._"

She grinned. "So? There isn't an age when you can stop _appreciating._"

I almost gagged. "Hermione!"

She burst out into laughter, hysterical laughter, so that I wondered what they had done to me on the bus as I'd slept. Which, of course, probably only made her laugh harder. My concern was funny to her like that. I glared and her laughter died down to a pretty chuckle. She reached over and gripped my arm consolingly before she stole a fry.

"Hey!" I grumbled. "Get your own."

"I think I will," she said with a smile, flagging down our server.

Soon we were munching on French fries and something else that was also fried which I had never seen before in my life. They were rings of some sort and they were delicious. I ate more than I probably should have, considering that after this, my budget for food was going to shrink considerably. It reminded me of the time we had had lunch together that one time in Bulgaria. I felt almost just at ease as I had felt then.

"You know, this is oddly reminiscent of my first date," she said thoughtfully. I stared at her, surprised she would want to share something so personal with me. "I was twelve and he was my muggle neighbour. My mom set us up over the summer."

My heart was in my throat just like that, beating wildly for her. "What are you saying?"

_It would be nice if you just come out and say it, Granger, so that I don't have to. _

She smiled brightly. "I'm saying you make a good twelve year old muggle boy."

I grinned and nudged her foot. "Thanks. It's a good thing you're a witch, then."

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"My muggle cooking skills are shite, to be honest," I admitted. "You're going to have to magic us some more of these things for later."

Her laugh was warm, almost as warm as I was feeling just then. "They're called onion rings, Draco."

"Onion rings," I repeated. "What an apt name. These Bulgarian muggles don't beat around the bush, do they?"

"I'm not sure if it originates from this part of the world," she mused. "But you can buy them almost anywhere. At least you can in the muggle world. Find a diner, they're sure to have them."

"Hmm…"

We headed back to the bus when the driver glared at us. We had eaten more than our fair share, yes, but I left something heavy behind in that diner - more than just the tip Granger had left for our server. There had been something growing within me since early that morning when I had realized this trip was coming to an end, something that resembled dread. It was dark and insidious, but it had been extricated from within me.

It didn't matter where we left off. We would be alright in the end, I think. And if nothing else, I would always have this.

I would always have onion rings.

/

We were holding hands again, not quite comfortably. The tension radiating through us was probably unnoticeable to anyone other than ourselves, but that was probably because our muggle companions didn't quite have the worries we did. We had just been thoroughly checked by the muggle border security and now we were making our way over the imaginary lines that separated one territory from another.

It was really odd to me, how strongly these imaginary lines were. As soon as we crossed over it, we would be safe. And I would be free, in theory.

Hermione had been afraid that the Bulgarian rebels might have made it so no magical persons could cross the border. I wondered how they could possibly have achieved such a thing nationwide. It was one thing to put up anti apparition wards, quite another to put up a physical magical barrier. The constant energy that would be required for such a task seemed impossible to me. But Hermione, being the thorough witch she was, made me wait outside the women's loo whilst she risked doing several diagnostic spells.

As a member of the Ministry of Magic, she would be excused for performing magic in the vicinity of muggles. Especially because no one would be there to witness it.

Her spells came up in the negative, so we wearily accepted our fate and climbed back up onto that dreadful bus. She didn't once let go of my hand and I held on to her like she was a lifeline. While they couldn't stop us from crossing over through some barrier, we couldn't possibly know if the Bulgarian rebels hadn't secured all the muggle borders. We had no way of knowing if this border wasn't manned. We couldn't know if they'd stop us after all these muggle security checkpoints and drag us away. There _was, _after all, still a price on my head.

So we sat there with bated breath as the driver drove on and the muggles around us chatted amicably with each other, their weariness giving way to excitement now that we were only an hour away from our destination. Her fingernails were digging into my skin painfully, but the pain grounded me. It made me remember the fright of running away in the first place. The terror of it filled me again. I remembered the agony of being thrown against a burning wall of fire.

I remembered the agony of running.

The border came. We crossed it. Nothing happened.

Still, we held onto our breath, refusing to believe it had been that easy. Ten minutes passed. We were on a highway of sorts. Twenty minutes passed and we were passing through another town. An hour later, it dawned on the both of us that we were free. We were truly free. We'd crossed over and there had been no one there to stop us.

We couldn't have known at that point that the rebels had lost their stronghold weeks before. There hadn't been an apparation ward for a very long time now, just days after we had fled to the forest. Hermione could have gone home and I could have been free permanently.

/

We reached our destination shortly thereafter.

It was late in the afternoon by that point. The town was some sort of tourist attraction for muggles. I never did catch the name of the place, so wracked as I was with nerves by that point. But it was pretty. I remember that much. It was all trees and flowers, soft rolling hills and golden sunlight. It lit Hermione up beautifully. The smile on her face could have meant a thousand different things at that point. I didn't want to ask what she was thinking. I was afraid of the answer.

We ambled along for a little while, following the other tourists. Hermione hadn't been here before, either, so she took a minute to explore with me. There were little shops and cafes and all manner of delights created to draw happy customers on holiday. I had no appetite, though. I had eyes for nothing other than the woman next to me, attempting to gauge what she would do next.

It didn't escape my notice that she didn't let go of my hand.

We ended up walking through a park. There were a few people here and there, taking an evening stroll. But mostly, all the happy people had gone back to their hotel rooms, resting before venturing out again in the evening. It was the time of day where everything fell into a sort of lull. It was peaceful looking, it really was. But I wasn't at peace.

"Why don't we stop here for a while?" she suggested. I just shrugged.

We were on top of a hill. Instead of digging through her bag, she conjured a blanket and sat down on it, patting the spot next to her for me to join her. I did so carefully. It was odd watching magic occur before me now. It had been weeks since we'd done it last. It had been that many days since I'd snapped my wand and written my death sentence.

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "Now, I mean… that we've crossed the border."

"I…" I had to stop and clear my throat. "I don't know."

She nodded as if that was the only acceptable answer I could give under the circumstances. In many ways it was. I was at a crossroads in my life at this point, and she knew this better than anyone possibly could. She leaned against me and I held her then. It was warm, but I could feel the solemn nature of it all. This was meant to be something serious for the both of us. We weren't ambling carelessly through a forest anymore. We'd run right out of time.

"You could come home," she suggested quietly, as if she hated herself for even saying it out loud. "We could go home together and…"

"And?" I prompted.

She sighed and reached for my hand. We didn't say anything more for a long time and it felt like this was the most honest we had ever been with each other. I knew what she wanted to say. How could I not? It was obvious to me. Maybe it had been obvious to me this whole time and I just couldn't believe it. She squeezed my hand as if to say, _I know. I know how you feel too, Draco. _

"We could go anywhere," I said, staring out into the sunset so I wouldn't have to watch her judge me. "We could… I don't know. We could be anywhere."

"We could," she agreed. I turned my head towards her and she cupped my cheek.

"I don't think I can go back and be Draco Malfoy anymore," I whispered.

"I know," she whispered. She leaned closer, so much so that our lips were almost brushing together. "I'm not sure what I should do, just that…"

_I want to be with you, too, Granger. _

_Say it. Say it to her. Say it to her! _

She sighed and I felt her sweet breath wash over my face. I wanted to close that inch between us so I wouldn't have to communicate what I felt to her in any other way. It would be enough like this. She would know my intentions exactly and I would know hers. My eyes closed of their own accord and I felt her grip me tighter. In that moment I felt as if she was all that was holding me together. As I leaned forward to finally kiss her, to finally tell her how I felt, everything stopped and I couldn't move.

"Step away from her and put your hands in the air!"

People were shouting. There were bright flashing lights. I only realized in retrospect that they were curses and that Hermione had thrown up several nifty shield charms over the both of us. It all happened so fast. The shields didn't last very long. There were about fifteen of them and two of us and I didn't even have a wand. There was only so much a girl could do before defeat was inevitable.

They had me on the ground and were restraining my arms behind my back. I could smell the warm earth under me, heated by the sunshine. I almost cried then because I had been free. It had only been a few hours of freedom, but I'd tasted it and I wanted to mourn its loss.

"What the hell do you think you're _doing_?" I heard Hermione scream before she was silenced.

"I'm going to remove your apparation restrictions. You're going to have to hold still," someone said to me. I realized with a jolt that whoever it was, whoever was taking us captive, wasn't Bulgarian.

They were _English. _

They were Ministry officials. I could see their official robes from the corner of my eye as I was restrained to the ground. I almost swallowed my own tongue in fear. I was done for. This was going to be it for me. I didn't bother struggling. It would've only made it worse. I let the pain of the spell and then the nausea of the apparation wash over me.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting chained to an iron chair in a dark interrogation room, somewhere deep in the Ministry. The walls were bare, the room pretty much empty except for the table and chair and my uneven breathing.

The door opened and in walked someone I never thought I'd see again. Ron Weasley took the seat across from me, staring at me with a look of disgust plastered on his face and a malicious glint in his eye.

**A/N: The next chapter will be up sometime around the 13th of May, in case any of you were wondering. **

**So what did you think? This was a real pain to write. I know it was quite mean to end it here, but this was planned from the moment I came up with this story. Hope you all enjoyed. Until next time, here's a spoiler of the next chapter:**

"It can't have ended there," she said, rubbing her hand wearily over her face in exhaustion. "There has to be more to the story than that. We have to go back."

**Unsigned Reviews: **

**LM1: **Hey there! So nice to hear from you! How is everything going with the instructing? School for me has been a really demanding experience. I certainly hope your adventure has been less stressful than mine. As for this chapter – I'll hopefully get to Hermione's state of mind sooner rather than later.

Much love. – M.

**Sora: **I'm really glad you've enjoyed thus far (and especially that you enjoy the writing style, which can be a pain in the you-know-what to write). I apologize for the restlessness I've caused you. Things have been on high speed on my end as of late, which has not left a lot of room (or motivation) for writing. Thank you very much for your kind words and enthusiasm. Hope you enjoy what's left to come.

**Silver: **Sorry for the delay, darling!


	23. Intermission

**A/N: **Don't you love when I keep my promises? Happy birthday to GottaLuvSassyPoines. Have a good one.

Thank you to the lovely reviewers: Elantil, GottaLuvSassyPonies, indiearcade, A Diabolical Angel, Musicangel913, silver, PouleauPotter, sora, Lady Moonglow, HillywoodIsLife, HarryPGinnyW4eva, Irezei, buttercup88, SimpsonSortia, Guest, Becky, Dancing-Souls, JaneAustenFan786, April, and Witbeyond.

Say a hello, if you're so inclined.

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE: INTERMISSION**

"You can't possibly imagine how I felt in that moment, sitting chained there in that awful chair. I couldn't even really describe the look on his face. Weasley's that is. He had always hated me. We had always hated each other, but in that moment it was something else, something entirely…"

At first Andrea thought he had lapsed into silence because the memories had become too much for him. It had happened a couple of times over the last couple of hours as he re-lived memories from a lifetime ago. She hadn't disturbed his silences. She didn't interrupt him now either, just sat there and listened in rapture, waiting for him to continue his sordid, beautiful tale. Eventually, he would speak as if in a dream. At least, every other time he had continued to speak.

But not this time.

He was shifting away from her in a flash, disturbingly quick. In that second of empty space, she stared at his back in silent awe. How could someone so weak looking, a small bag of bones, move so fast? She wondered what on earth had possessed him to stop his story now, stop his story at such a pivotal point. Was that the end of it all? Surely not. It couldn't have been. There had to be more, even if that "more" was him getting tossed into a cell for kidnapping Hermione Granger.

There had to have been some resolution. And if there was one, she wasn't leaving here without it.

"Hey…um…" she shifted closer to the bars. "Uh… Mr. Malfoy? What-"

But then she heard what he had obviously noticed well before she had. There were voices and footsteps. Very _loud, _clanging footsteps. Andrea slowly shifted away from Draco's cell, as far as the space in the corridor would allow her. For his part, it didn't seem as if he had ever moved, had deigned to speak to the likes of scum like her. He blended right into the stones of his cell, as if he were a part of the prison, just another brick in Hadrian's Wall.

She realized with a start that that was exactly the case. He had been here so long that he was just another faceless body, if he could be considered a body at all. No one remembered who he was. No one cared about his whereabouts. No one knew he was here. No one had even cared to look for him all of these years. It hadn't taken Andrea all that long and she hadn't even tried _that _hard. He was truly alone in this world, just like he had told her, and he probably thought that he was going to die that way, too.

Andrea clutched her bag to her chest, hugging herself. There was no way she was going to let that happen. She made the promise to herself and sent it to him mentally. She hoped he heard it. She was going to bring light to this if it was the last thing she did. Andrea had never been surer of anything in her whole meaningless life.

Though, of course, it very well _might _be the last thing she ever did. She didn't know if those footsteps were her death sentence. She didn't know if the cell next to Draco's was meant exclusively for her.

The iron cast door opened. Or rather, the jailers - the cruel, ruthless monsters that they were – unlocked it and forcibly dragged the door open. She wondered why she had been so afraid of what had lain behind that door when she had first arrived. All she could see now was the monstrous obstacle that door was between Draco and the world that had given up on him.

But she wasn't like the world. She wasn't going to give up on him. Not even if it meant her last breath.

She stood up and brushed her pants off, watching as the keeper of Azkaban and his goons filed into the corridor, staring at her. She tried her best to wipe the disgusted look off of her face and replace it with something more appropriate, like fear. But, as she met the gaze of the angry keeper, she knew he could see right through her. Well, what was she supposed to do? She was a journalist for Merlin's sake, not an actress.

She saw his eyes drift to his prisoner and almost saw red.

She looked past the old bastard to see Gregory Flint pushing his way through the guards and rushing towards her. He sort of skidded to a stop next to her, disrupting the dusty floor and creating little clouds. They made her angry too. They reminded her of the prisoner's abuse and neglect. She thought Flint was happy to see her, might even hug her, or at least that seemed to be his intention. He didn't, though, probably remembered that they worked together and such things demanded propriety. Instead, he grasped her shoulder tightly, as if he hadn't seen her – his long lost friend – for years upon years.

She didn't know how to feel about this development. She had too many other things on her mind to consider as it was.

"You okay?" he mouthed, so the others present wouldn't hear. "You had me worried. I tried to buy you time by dragging my feet, but it didn't work."

In an instant she felt a rush of gratitude towards him. If he hadn't made all that noise, how would Draco have known to act stoic?

But before she could even come up with a response, the guards closed in around them and began to shepherd them out. She glared as one of the guards reached in to touch her, probably to make her get a move on. Before he could, Greg stepped in between them to shield her, glaring at the guard. She paused, not entirely sure how to react to this – to any of this – before grasping his hand tightly. She _had _brought him here with her for a reason, after all. He was her safety blanket. She was going to milk that for all it was worth.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, not bothering to mask her glare. What was the point? They were already on to her.

The keeper of Azkaban leered at her. "Visiting hours are over for the day, Ms.…"

"Saltzman," she snapped. "Fine. I was done an hour ago, anyway."

She grasped Greg's hand tighter and pulled him along with her, gesturing rudely at the guard to lead the way. She turned up her nose at all of them and acted like this was all just part of the established protocol. It wasn't, of course. This was all _so _not a part of the rules. Everyone present knew that by now – even Greg - but all Andrea could do in that moment was act cool. None of them had wands and therefore no magic, that much was true. But there were four of them against her and Greg. True, she could take the keeper, no problem. But the odds of Greg taking out three guards? That was insane.

If the guards attacked, they were surely done for.

They were walking back through the long trail of abandoned cells in the old wing of Azkaban, hopefully back to the entrance. She could feel Greg's confused stares directed at her, but she didn't acknowledge them. She didn't know how to tell him not to give away their game. She could only squeeze his hand tight and hope for the best. Her skin felt hot and itchy with fear. She knew she was sweaty and that her hands were disgustingly clammy. Her heart was pounding in her throat.

But Gods, she was going to throw up.

Please, just _not here… _

But they were already out of the old wing now. She recognized where they were going. Apparently, they were not going to trap her and Greg here. She could have cried in relief. Just a turn through that corridor and they would be back in that dreary entrance hall from ages ago and then _free. _Free to run, scream, hide…

The freedom that Draco Malfoy hadn't tasted in over two decades.

She had to do something. Andrea took deep breaths, thinking fast. She nudged Greg, who looked down at her.

"It was a fail," she whispered a little too loudly. His eyes widened in warning, but she winked. Or tried to, at least. She couldn't be sure if her face didn't look messed up, like she was having a stroke or something. "He didn't say _a thing. _Just sat there. I think they've got him under some kind of freezing charm. He didn't even _move._"

She watched the keeper's back as she said this, watching it straighten a little. She wanted to smirk at how weak the man's fear had made him, how _stupid. _She clutched at Greg's arm, letting his hand drop down. She felt weak, too. She could feel Greg's concern radiating off of him, but she didn't know what to do about it. All they could do was follow the keeper back into his little office to do the boring paperwork, which they both did without complaint.

"And someone from our office will be here to get to the remaining cells tomorrow," Greg said, pushing his list over to her. She had almost forgotten why he had been here in the first place. How silly. Her head swam from the pressure of it all. "We should have our interviews completed within the week. Andrea?"

She looked over the list wearily and saw Greg's neat scrawl. He had noted _her _cell number, scrawled it right at the bottom and she almost kissed him for it. She didn't actually do such a thing, of course, didn't even touch him. She didn't think she could move much without spewing her guts all over the keeper's desk. She just nodded and handed the precious list back over to the son of a bitch sitting across from them.

"A week or more, yes," she said. She tried her best to be sweet, to be professional, and to be _something. _But she couldn't. She was just drained. She wanted to get out of there and be somewhere warm. Yes, she just wanted to be warm. She wondered when Draco Malfoy had last been warm and almost started to sob right there at the table. "It shouldn't take more than that…"

Greg could probably feel her slipping, so he took over. She was grateful for him, honestly, even though he was likely going to pose some kind of problem. Soon, they were getting up to leave and Greg was guiding her out by her shoulder. She felt like she was in some sort of a daze. She felt sick. When she saw the satisfied leer of the keeper at her forlorn expression, she felt despair.

She didn't say a single thing as they made their way back to the outcroppings of the desolate island and had their Ministry intern appropriate them back to whence they came.

/

Greg hadn't let go of her hand since they had apparated back to the Ministry, even though they had to fill out mountains of paperwork as was usual for each Azkaban visit. Everything had to be documented and cleared by the department. It was the protocol, even though it took absolute _ages. _Greg did all of it, didn't even ask her to do her part. On some level, Andrea was touched by all of this.

He looked at her like she was about to collapse at any second, and she had to admit that his concern was not entirely unfounded. She felt sick to her stomach, weak, and afraid. She had no idea what she was going to do about anything. She didn't know where she was going to find the courage to get up tomorrow and find her way back to Azkaban and face that awful, awful old man that could do something so terrible to someone…

The thought made her shake, just shudder in disgust, so she let Greg hold her still as he dealt with the Ministry bureaucracy all by himself. All she had to do was sign where he pointed. It was a sort of blessing, really. She didn't know what she would have done without him. She also didn't know how she could have dealt with all of this alone. Oh, how terrible it must have been to be so _alone _all of those years…

She shuddered and Greg rubbed his thumb over her wrist as he went over the last of the paperwork with steadfast concentration. He wanted to be out of here as much as she did, she realized. He probably had places to be, a family and a girlfriend somewhere. He wasn't married (there was no ring that she noticed) but he was too good looking to be alone like she was. He was blond and shaggy and strong and oh so very considerate. Don't forget dependable and hardworking. Those kinds of people got snagged up quickly.

Always.

Which made her think that he had to be playing her. What was his motive for being so nice to her? For sticking up for her all of those times? For enduring any of this? Sure, he was the most bearable out of the lot of them back at the office, but she knew what it was like. They were all the same in the end, these ex-Slytherins. What was he after, the promotion? Her story? Her?

The longer she stared at his perfectly proportioned face, the more confused she became. As he finished up, she pulled her hand out of his and stood up.

"Thank you for coming with me and…everything else," she said quietly after he had handed the last of the documents to a tired looking intern. It must have been very late. Later than she had anticipated, probably. Her parents would be wondering where she was. Or, more likely, her parents had assumed that she had fallen asleep at the office, working late again. "I will… see you at the office tomorrow, then."

"Wait," he called after her as she moved towards the lifts. He caught up with her easily, of course, because he was a fine physical specimen and she felt incredibly weak at that moment. "Saltzman… you can't just do that."

"Do what?" she asked, crossing her hands over her chest.

He stared at her blankly for a moment. "You have to tell me what's going on."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she repeated. She wanted to ask him what he wanted, what was in it for him, and why he was looking at her like that. Instead, she turned away and stared at the doors of the lift, wishing for it to come faster so she could just get out of here. "It's getting pretty late, isn't it? We probably don't have to go back into the office. So I'll see you _tomorrow._"

"Andrea…" He grasped her shoulder and she felt a jolt of fear run through her. What was he going to do to her? "Come on. I was there. I _saw-_"

"You don't know what you're talking about," she snapped. And he didn't, he really didn't. He didn't know a single goddamn thing. The brief hurt look on his face only made her feel weaker. But it was for the best. She knew how to act, had always acted this way. It sent everyone running away from her. But that was fine because that was exactly how she preferred it. She had her job and her parents. She didn't need anything else. "What do you want, Flint?"

"So its Flint now, is it?" he said softly. She just stared at him blankly and he caved, stepping closer and leaning towards her. "I don't know what's going on, _Saltzman, _but I'm not letting you go until you tell me."

She closed her eyes and breathed him in, too tired to even bother pushing him away. He smelled musty, probably from traipsing through Azkaban all day. A little bit like musk, sweat, and seawater. And something else. Something she didn't have in that moment. Something _warm. _

"I'm tired, Greg," she whispered. "I'm wet and cold and… I just want to go home."

She was mortified to feel tears well up in her eyes from the stress of it all, terrible big fat tears. She could see his panic forming and didn't know how to stop it all from happening, if only for his sake. It was going to happen, there was nothing to stop it now. She was being weak, a weak little girl. By tomorrow he would have told the entire office and everyone was going to think she was a joke. No one was ever going to take her seriously ever again and this was going to be the end of her career. Journalists did not cry. Ever.

Forget the promotion, forget Draco Malfoy, and forget ever moving out of her parents' house. She was going to be writing the obituaries for the rest of her life.

How lovely.

But Greg didn't do any of that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to her and re-taking her hand, as if he were afraid to do anything more than that. When the lift arrived, he guided her into it.

"Sorry it's a bit damp. Did just get drenched on that godforsaken island after all…" He cleared his throat awkwardly when she didn't laugh. "Right. I'm going to get you warm and dry and then you're going to tell me whatever the hell it is you've gotten yourself into. I think the cafeteria should be empty at this point. Everyone should have gone home."

"Not here," she said quickly. She grasped his wrist to check the time on his watch and saw it was just past nine, but then one could never be too safe about these things. "We have to get out of here."

He shrugged. "Your place?"

"I live with my parents," she mumbled, embarrassed. This was why she didn't have any friends. _Damn. _

"Seriously?" he grinned. "How old are you?"

She glared but he was smiling softly at her. She ignored it and the butterflies forming in her stomach, too. "Let's just go to your place, Flint. I'm sure you won't murder me between now and tomorrow."

"I don't have a floo, I told you," he reminded her. "I had to get up at four in the bloody morning to get here, remember? I don't quite forgive you for that, by the way."

"You'll get over it! Why can't we just apparate there?" she said with a roll of her eyes. She saw him blush and it was the most gorgeous thing she'd seen in weeks. He mumbled something at her. "What was that?"

"I don't know how to apparate!" he hissed.

Well that was… _adorable. _

"Seriously, Flint, how old are you?" He glared and she snickered. "Wait. How on earth do you get anywhere?"

"I wake up really, really early," he grumbled, glaring at her. He reached forward and grasped her hand, pulling her out of the lift when it reached the atrium. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

/

They ended up taking the shabby Knight Bus back to Greg's apartment, since she had never been to the area before and he was just too terrified of being splinched. She didn't poke too much fun at him for the sole reason that she was much to shaken up still to even endeavour such a thing. Besides, the Knight Bus wasn't exactly a place to be merry. It had once been an acceptable method of travelling, if a little unorthodox and bumpy. Now it was just a bit too on the seedy side, its patrons dabbling in what _might _be dark arts…

Well, it was safe to say that it would be an odd month if the Knight Bus wasn't flagged down by the Aurors for a routine checkup.

Greg took one look at the occupants and the skinny old man leering a toothless smile at Andrea and paid an extra four galleons to have their stop moved to the front of the queue. Then he made her relinquish her seat and take the one next to the window, so he was between her and the creepy old man, who was now glaring at the protective display. She found his over protectiveness a little silly. It wasn't like any of these people would attack her in public, even if they _were _a little seedy.

Still. It was sweet of him, in a way. She wondered if he were like this with everyone. Every woman? His girlfriend, if there was one? Thinking these thoughts were dangerous, though. They were as dangerous as Draco's had been for Hermione. Only, not as grave. What was the worst that could happen to her? Getting fined for fraternizing with a co-worker? Certainly not getting put behind bars.

The thought chilled her.

He lived in a cozy little apartment thirty minutes outside London. It was a nice place, really, but Andrea couldn't imagine why someone who didn't have a floo and couldn't apparate would live here. Still, it was nice. There were sheer curtains separating his bedroom from the living area, in which there was a big brown leather couch. There were pictures everywhere, pictures and boxes and clothes.

"Sorry for the mess," he said, kicking his shoes off in random directions and walking into his little kitchen. He looked a little out of place, like a massive giant in a doll's house. She found it charming. "What do you want to eat? I've not got much unfortunately… due a trip to the market, if I'm honest. Eggs? Hm… Pasta!"

She chuckled at this display. "I'm okay, thanks."

"No you're not!" he said dramatically, striking a pose and pointing a finger at her. "When was the last time you ate?"

He had a point there. When _was _the last time she'd eaten? She surely hadn't had any breakfast – there hadn't been much time in the morning – and she had skipped dinner last night out of nerves. Lunch had been a no go since she'd been so busy with her story – _the _story – and…well, she was just too exhausted to even think about eating. But the knowing look in his eye told her he wasn't going to let her off that easy.

She was much too tired to put him in his place, to let him know that he had no say in her personal affairs, what she did and didn't do. But still. In a way, it was rather sweet.

"You can go and have a shower. There's a towel hanging on the back of the door," he said, pointing towards his bedroom. "It's just through there. I'll leave some clothes out for you."

She didn't complain, since she felt absolutely disgusting. The salty ocean water had drenched her to the bones and she probably smelt like dirt and sweat. Wasn't stress sweat the worst thing in the world? It reeked of failure, fear, and disappointment. In this case, mostly disappointment – with the world, with history, with her country, with Hermione Granger…

It was odd, showering in someone else's bathroom, using someone else's things – a man's things. His soap smelled of cedar and pine, his shampoo something delectable she couldn't place, and his towel of detergent. She had always _loved _the smell of detergent. And the scent of man. Or manly scents. Or really just men.

Shit.

"Andrea?" Greg called, lightly knocking on the door. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I mean, yes!" She started. She realized she'd been standing there, staring at herself in his tiny mirror above his tiny sink for over ten minutes. "Be right out. I'm ah just… you know, doing girly things. Things girls do."

She heard him laugh as he walked away and almost slapped herself.

When she saw the clothes he'd laid out for her on his bed (the only decently sized thing in his apartment) she almost slapped him. It was an old quidditch t-shirt from Hogwarts and a pair of boxers. All Slytherin green. He knew she was had been a Ravenclaw. He'd been in her year. He'd been part of the group of quidditch jock's that had laughed at her book club.

When he saw her, though, his eyes lit up and he grinned. The worst she could do was glare.

"I'm sorry," he said, much to her satisfaction. "It really was the only thing I had that would fit you."

So she shrugged it off and sat on his musty old leather couch with him to eat. It wasn't all that big, so they had to sit side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Not that she hadn't been in close physical proximity to him before this. It just felt a little more intimate than all of those other times. That was probably because this particular time didn't involve life threatening stress or exhaustion. She wondered whether he felt the same way.

She didn't know when she had started talking, when he had gotten her to spill, or even how. It had just been natural, a little brush of his shoulder against hers, and a tight grasp of her hand in his. She had finally felt a little warmer inside after her cold, cold day. She started at the beginning, like Draco had started at the beginning for her. She told him everything, every detail she could possibly remember.

He didn't interrupt her.

She was almost surprised that he didn't interrupt her. They were reporters, after all. They were horrible listeners. They only listened to what they wanted to, jumped on information and stored it in the most favourable light for themselves. It was all about the numbers, the public, the readership. There were _always _questions, questions about plot points, about facts, about _everything. _But Greg just sat there and stared at her, listening to her massive outpouring of words and attempting to make sense of it.

"Hm," was all he said when she finally finished. "That's…"

"Yeah," she sighed. "But you know, it makes no sense. That can't have been the end of it. We would have known if there was a trial. That stuff is always recorded. I studied this stuff religiously at Hogwarts, I would have read all about it-"

"I know. You were a nerd," he said, interrupting. At first she wanted to be angry with him, to yell at him for everything that was pent up inside her – not just from today, but from _every day _since she was eleven years old and had had a hard time making friends at Hogwarts. But he brushed that away with a wave of his hand and a question. "What are we going to do now?"

It was a good question.

"We?" she asked slowly.

"You think I'm going to let you do all of this highly illegal shit by yourself?" He raised a brow, waiting for her to question him and his intentions. But what were his intentions? For the life of her, she couldn't figure it out. What do you want, Gregory Flint? "Don't worry, Saltzman. I'm not in the running for that promotion you want so desperately. Nott hates my dad's guts."

She snickered at him and he nudged her with his shoulder. She believed him, then, just didn't know what his game was exactly. What she did know was that she couldn't do this alone. It was too much, too insane, and way too risky. If something happened to her… Well, it was better that someone _besides _herself knew of Draco's whereabouts. Two heads always made a better team than one.

So she would just have to trust him, terrible motives or not. How exhausting.

"It can't have ended there," she said, rubbing her hand wearily over her face in exhaustion. "There _has _to be more to the story than that. We have to go back."

"So we go back," he said. "We'll go back first thing tomorrow."

And that was that.

**A/N: So here we go. Officially on to the second half! This chapter was a lot longer than I anticipated, so we will be sticking with Andrea and Greg in the next one. It is unlikely that I will be able to update next week, so don't expect a chapter before the 29****th ****of May. Until then, here's a spoiler: **

"Do you think you could stay?" she asked, looking up at him.

**Unsigned Review: **

**Silver: **Thanks doll! Glad you enjoyed. Thank you also for the push to update. I don't think I would have gotten back on track without you.

**Sora: **Thank you for sticking with me and being so encouraging! : )

**Irezei: **Hope you're not too mad with me about this interlude. I did warn you we had only reached halfway. I'm dragging it out. Hermione's point of view will shine through a lot more in this second half though. Thank you for reviewing!

**Guest: **Thank you for all of your reviews. : )

**Becky: **Thanks! Hope the wait wasn't too long.

**April: **Thank you! I'm glad you've enjoyed this crazy little story this far and I thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts with me. I have to say, congratulations for picking up on the intermission. No one else did. I promise Hermione's thoughts will become more apparent in this second half and that everything will make sense (even Ron's end of the bargain). Thanks again!

PS: Krum is indeed spelled with a K. If you've seen it otherwise, it was a spelling mistake that I did not catch before uploading.


	24. Intermission Part 2

**A/N: **This chapter wasn't supposed to happen. It's an extra couple thousand words that probably could have been discarded, to be honest. But I suppose it's too late for that now. Let me know what you think in any case!

Thank you to the lovely reviewers: Elantil, irezei, PouleauPotter, GottaLuvSassyPonies, Sora, Witbeyond, Dancing-Souls, SimponSortia, JaneAustenfan786, Blue Luver5000, HarryPGinnyW4eva, The Last Deathly Guardian, silver, and DracoSly.

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR: INTERMISSION PART 2**

Greg was undeniably chivalrous about the whole thing. It was surprising to her. The most inappropriate thing they'd done was hold hands and that had only been done in an effort to comfort her. She had needed it, too, had desperately needed it. Hell, she had probably initiated it. She felt warm and safe. She was surprised at how warm and safe she felt.

She wondered if Draco felt safe in his little cell tonight. She hoped he didn't think she'd sold him out or had left him there to rot for the rest of his life. She hoped he slept and slept well knowing that somehow she was going to get him out of there.

The burden of the _how _was sitting heavily on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe every time she thought about it.

Greg had easily given up his bed to her, choosing to camp out on his tiny couch for the night. He'd done it without hesitation, without even blinking an eye in annoyance. It had been natural. All he'd done was steal a pillow and an extra blanket off the end of the bed, leaving her there to marvel at his generosity whilst he finally took his shower.

What else was she supposed to do but lay there and listen to him?

It wasn't creepy or anything like that. She really wasn't _that _kind of person. She really could only hear the pounding of the water from the shower. It wasn't like she was invading his privacy, for godsakes. He had placed her in his bed willingly and it was right next to his bathroom. What was she supposed to do, turn deaf for fifteen minutes?

When Greg came out, he brought a wave of hot steam and warmth with him. She hadn't realized how cold she had really been until he'd re-appeared before her. She knew then that she hadn't been warm all this time at all, not one bit. It was he who was the furnace, thawing at her iciness, and keeping her functioning through it all.

She was suddenly gripped in fear, barely able to breathe.

She heard him walk through his tiny apartment, heard him putting things away, and turning off the lights as he went. She didn't know how she could sleep, wake up, and face another day feeling this cold. She had big things to do, the world to carry, and gargantuan feats to accomplish. She instinctively knew that she couldn't. Not if she was feeling like this. Not if she was this cold.

She was paralyzed, laying there in complete darkness. She couldn't see a thing, couldn't hear Greg, and didn't even know if he was still there. It was conceivable that he had left her here. What could he want with a thing like her anyway? She was dangerous. She did dangerous things that people should never endeavour to be a part of. He had obviously realized that and left her here by herself, probably off to call the Aurors on her.

And then she would be all alone in this darkness, perpetual darkness, forever. Forever. _Forever. _

"Greg?" she whispered. "Greg!"

"What?" he called out. He obviously hadn't fallen asleep yet. She heard him shift. She imagined him turning over on the couch and let out a shuddering breath of relief. So he was still here. She couldn't speak out of relief, her panic attack subsiding. "Andrea?"

She heard him get up, heard his bare feet against his tiled floor as he walked up towards where she lay weakly. She wondered how he could see her in this darkness, this impenetrable darkness, but she could feel him staring at her. She could almost picture the same concerned frown from earlier plastered on his face right now. The same look he'd worn when he'd barged in on her with the guards in the prison.

"Andrea?" he called to her again, softly.

"Do you…" She cleared her throat and made herself sit up, staring in his general direction. "Do you think you could stay with me?"

He didn't say anything for a whole minute and she held her breath for the whole of it. She thought that maybe he was judging her then, trying to find a way to reject her silly request, or trying to find a polite way to tell her that she'd just crossed a line _and please get out of my apartment_. He had to be thinking those things. He absolutely had to. People with self respect - people who had their shit together - didn't ask for things like that and especially not of practical strangers, no matter what those two strangers had gone through together.

But he moved towards her and pulled back the blankets to crawl in next to her without saying a thing. When he climbed into bed next to her, she let out the breath she'd been holding and shifted away unnecessarily to make space for him. She knew she shouldn't have asked this of him, that it was highly inappropriate and she wouldn't be able to face him in the morning, but she needed it. There was no way she could be alone right now. She understood that and had accepted it for what it was.

"It's going to be okay, Andrea," he whispered to her. "I promise."

"Thanks," she said with a sigh. And she meant it, too. It was a rare occurrence. "Thank you."

She felt him shift onto his back. "Go to sleep."

"Okay."

/

She woke up in the middle of the night. It wasn't jarring or startling or anything of the sort. It was a natural progression. One second she had been asleep and the next second she was awake. It was as natural as breathing. It happened as quickly, too.

She was alert for no good reason.

She had woken up as she always did, curled up tight on her left side and her legs slightly bent and sprawled. But she didn't recognize the feel of the blankets, the smells around her, or the fact that there was a softly snoring man laid out beside her. She let her mind recalibrate and her eyes adjust to the darkness. Now that she wasn't panicking, she could see Greg sleeping soundly next to her, made soft by the shadows of the night.

It was just past four in the morning, the clock said. She relaxed back into the pillows and stared at her companion for a bit. She was glad it wasn't awkward, not even one bit. He hadn't attempted to soothe her, hadn't attempted to touch her, really hadn't attempted to do anything at all. He was just sharing his space with her and… well… keeping her company.

Perhaps in the light of day she'd look at it differently, but she wasn't even embarrassed anymore about asking him to stay with her. He'd done it without fanfare and had done it without judgement, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to indulge a scared little girl's request. She instinctively knew he wouldn't bring it up and certainly wouldn't torment her with it. He didn't seem like he was that type of guy.

She didn't know exactly _what _type of guy he was, but it was enough to know this much. That and the fact that he had an adorable snore.

Feeling slightly more secure, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

When she woke again next, sunshine was streaming through the curtains and she could hear birds chirping outside Greg's window. It was an atypical summer day for London, she could tell. It was brighter and sunnier than usual. People would be walking outside, shedding off their layers, and sporting smiles to enjoy the good weather. She and Greg would be returning to the dreariest island there ever was and attempting to discreetly get the rest of Draco Malfoy's story.

It almost made her want to just turn over and go back to sleep. She wasn't going to lie, she did attempt to do so, stretching out in bed and groaning at the fact that the night was already over. It was in these lamentations that she found out she was alone in bed and Greg was not in the room with her. She didn't panic – darkness always made panic a little stronger for her – but it did spark curiosity in her.

She got up, kneeling on her knees on the bed and rubbing her eyes, sitting there, even though all she wanted to do was desperately go back to sleep. But she supposed now that she was awake, it would just be rude to delay any longer. There was an actual person relying on her now. In a way, the whole of Britain was relying on her to expose this, to show them exactly how corrupt the system really was.

This wasn't about the obituaries anymore. This was more important.

Still, no one ever wrote about the exhaustion, the lack of will, and the utter terror that accompanied any act of heroism. No one wrote about the doubts. All of the heroes she had ever heard of always found their courage, got up, and did the things they needed to do no matter what the personal cost. No one had ever told her that she wasn't going to be allowed to hit the snooze button.

But she knew she couldn't. Of course she _knew _that she couldn't, no matter how much she didn't want to go back there and face those awful people, hear that awful story. People faced their problems. She was going to have to do that, too, and remind herself that this wasn't about her.

It was going to be okay, despite these dark doubts swirling inside of her. She knew that because she knew she didn't have to share the existence of this weak moment of uncertainty with anyone else. For all anyone else knew, she _was _strong and none of this had ever happened. Maybe she could just keep it all to herself and bury it where she had buried the majority of her other emotions.

"Andrea?" Greg called to her. "I made breakfast. Hope eggs are okay with you."

"What is it with you and food?" she shot back. More importantly, how was she going to eat? Her stomach was too full of nerves to attempt such a thing. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

He appeared in the doorway, pushing his gauzy curtains blocking his view of her aside. He struck "I'm not going to let you out there on an empty stomach!"

"What are you, my father?" she snorted. He made a stern face for effect and she burst out laughing. He shoved her, nearly tossing her off the bed, and she lay there, her leg dangling over the edge. "I don't feel like eating."

"What's wrong?" he asked. She didn't know what to tell him, honestly, so she stared at the ceiling instead, hoping he would just go away. His head suddenly popped in her line of vision as he leaned over her. It was so she couldn't ignore him. "Come on. You can tell me."

"I'm nervous," she said. She wondered how she looked like to him in that moment and then immediately quashed the thought. Nothing good ever came from thinking thoughts like that. "I can never eat when I'm nervous. You should know this about me now before you waste your time cooking anything else."

"Must be why you're so skinny," he remarked, flopping onto his back.

She stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled a bit. She wondered if he had been teasing her or if he really had meant it. Was she too skinny? As she stared at the ceiling, she realized that no, no she wasn't. She had seen what really skinny had looked like yesterday and that hunger had spoken to her about a lifetime of emptiness. In comparison, she was a whale. A big blubbery whale filled with a lifetime of joy and love and fulfillment.

The thought made her lose her appetite, or whatever was left of it anyway.

"We have to go now, don't we?" she said.

When he didn't respond, she turned her head to find him propped up on his elbow and staring at her. She didn't know how long he had been doing so, and the thought made her blush. She patted down her hair nervously and bit her lip – all bad habits, to be sure – and raised a brow at him. He had a mysterious look on his face, one she couldn't decipher. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. It might mean things she didn't want to hear.

"What?" she prodded.

He shook his head as if to clear his mind. "Yes… we should get going. It's almost seven."

And then he was getting up, getting out of her way, refusing to stare at her a second longer. She wondered why. It seemed almost as if he were embarrassed about something, but he had no reason to be. So she must have done something wrong. Did she smell bad? Did she have bad breath? Had she accidentally said something embarrassing again without realizing?

She didn't ask and he obviously didn't offer the information, so the mystery remained.

/

Greg was sitting awkwardly on her bed as she got ready for their long day in high speed. He refused to migrate out of her room in case her parents caught him, even though both of her parents worked the early shift and so were never home at this time. Still, she didn't complain. It had been hard enough, getting him to allow her to apparate the both of them here and, in any case, they had to be at the Ministry by eight.

So there was no time to dilly dally.

Men. So utterly silly. He hadn't been able to understand why she couldn't just wear something of his. Forget the fact that he was a literal giant in comparison to her, it was the principle of the thing. It didn't matter though. By that point, she was so filled with nerves that she couldn't even find it in her to scoff at him and his silly antics.

She persuaded him to come down to her kitchen so she could fix Draco something to eat. He grumbled about it the whole way, but she ignored him. She was getting mighty good at that – ignoring him. Still, she thought he might be doing all of this silliness for her benefit, to maybe distract her from everything that was happening. He _had _been staring at her the whole time, watching the back of her head, watching her flit nervously about the kitchen. How was she supposed to take what he was doing seriously if he was staring at her like that, with that secret look on his face?

She supposed all of it was kind of sweet, in its own way.

"So, are you going to put up a fuss about apparating again?" she asked him conversationally.

"Why can't we just floo in?" he asked her incredulously. "You've got a connection, don't you?"

"Both my parents work at the Department of Transportation, remember?" she said with a raised brow. "I mean, we could if you want to risk them noticing irregular floo usage…"

His eyes widened comically and she could instinctively tell that _this_ panic was real, not for her benefit. She had to fight to keep a straight face. She didn't dare tell him that there was no way for Bob and Marian Saltzman to know how many people or how many times their floo had been used. There was no such thing as irregular floo usage. Still, she adored the look on his face. She would keep it with her for the rest of the day and let it keep her warm, no matter what happened.

She apparated them to the Ministry, feeling a little better about how things were going to turn out that day. She knew it was a naïve thought to think, but it was worth thinking it in the end.

/

The bureaucratic nightmare was typical. For her, it went by in a breeze, didn't take nearly as long as it should have in her mind. She wasn't afraid. She just wasn't eagerly anticipating what was about to come next. Still, she helped Greg this time, and that probably made everything go just a little bit faster. He didn't feel the need to hold her hand this time though and she wasn't childish enough to ask for it, but she still felt bare and raw and on edge.

When their intern came for them, the same intern as last time, she didn't even care about the longing look on his face. She had almost forgotten all about him and his expectations of her. She didn't even feel all that bad for swindling him out of the promised date night. Greg was sharp enough to catch it, though, since he was a lot more alert this morning and his threatening behaviour kept the intern in check.

She would have to deal with Greg and these inappropriate antics later. She didn't know what later looked like or if there ever was going to be one.

The trek up the rocky landscape to the prison wasn't as difficult as it had been yesterday. The waves were a little calmer, not nearly as violent. They only got splashed twice, which was a victory. Greg's grip on her was surer today, so she didn't even fall once. She took it as a blessing. Still, it was raining here – wherever here actually was. She supposed that part was unavoidable.

The intern ditched them to their fates as soon as they entered the prison, just like yesterday. The repeat performance caused a drop of despair to grow within her heart. They walked in, moving towards the Keeper's office without being prompted this time – or rather, Greg dragged her along with him. She couldn't see that man's smug face, she realized, not if she wanted to keep her sanity. She would strangle the old man and then they'd have to lock her up, too.

And that wasn't something Greg could save her from.

"It's going to be alright," Greg whispered to her before knocking on the office door. "Just let me handle it, okay?"

She nodded and held her breath.

Someone entirely different opened the door, someone she didn't recognize. It was a mousy little man, half balding, and growing a belly that might have rivaled the late Horace Slughorn's. The relief she felt at the absence of the Keeper outweighed her confusion. But Greg wasn't one to stay silent, even if it was a gift staring him right in the mouth.

"We're here to see the Keeper," he said, and Andrea wanted to smack him upside the head. Why was he intent on ruining everything for them? He hadn't lost all of his Slytherin arrogance, she could see that now. But maybe that was something that was just ingrained in him. She would have to remind him where he stood in life if they ever got out of this unscathed. "We can't wait. This is quite urgent."

"He's away on business, unfortunately…" the mousy man said. His voice was wheezy, breathy, and meek. Andrea stepped on Greg's foot to stop him from talking over the man. "I am taking over the daily operations of the prison until he returns…"

"Lovely," Andrea said, finding it easy to smile now that she was faced with this unassuming man. She didn't know who he was, but he didn't seem like the type to lock up innocent people in prison. The urge to vomit quickly receded and she could stand straight again all of a sudden. "We were expected by the Keeper. We're from the Daily Prophet. You should have the approved list of cell numbers in your files."

"Yes, yes…" the man mumbled, nearly tripping to get to the desk. "I have it here…"

He was clumsy and awkward and clearly a last minute appointment, for the Keeper had surely left in a hurry if he had left a person like this in charge. She thought that maybe the Keeper had left because he was running away, maybe going into hiding, maybe… maybe he was out there, conspiring with whoever else was responsible for putting Draco in a cell. She considered what she could do to stop them. Probably nothing from the inside of the prison.

All of that was just going to have to wait.

"You're all set to go, sire, ma'am," the man said. He was sweating under the pressure of Greg's hostile gaze. She didn't know if she ought to kiss Greg for it or pummel him to death. She would have to wait and see. "Oh… right this way…"

Well, if he _was _going to be this way, she might as well milk the good cop/bad cop routine.

"When will the Keeper be back, do you think?" she asked the man sweetly.

"Oh, he did not say, ma'am," the man gulped. She felt sorry for him, she really did. People like this were not meant for high stress situations. Though she supposed maybe every situation was a high stress situation for a man like this. She wondered what he actually did for a living, if this was the first time he had even set foot in the prison. It had to be. "If it is something urgent, I could maybe send an owl for you?"

What a silly question. "Oh no, no. That's quite alright. I'm sure he wouldn't want to be disturbed anyway."

"Yes… yes, you must be right about that…" he mumbled, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "Where would you like to start?"

She leaned forward and tapped her cell – Draco's cell – on the list and gestured for him to proceed. She saw his discomfort and grew reassured. Maybe something was going to go right for once, if this was the only barrier between them and Draco. There was sweat beading on his forehead, his face reddening to an unflattering shade of tomato. She nudged Greg, wondering what they'd do if this guy had a stroke or something equally unpleasant.

"You see, ma'am, in my instructions… only one person is allowed to visit the old wing at a time…"

"My Ministry authorization doesn't say any such thing," Greg piped up, tactfully moving away so she couldn't step on his foot again. What was he playing at? "I have them here if you want to take a look at them."

The man did, because what else could he do? His hands shook and he oohed and ahhed and hummed, shuffling over the papers in real and genuine concern. She wondered again, was she going to have to cart this guy to St. Mungos? _What was Greg playing at? _She squeezed his hand and he let her this time, squeezing back reassuringly. She sincerely hoped he knew what he was doing.

"But my instructions say…"

"My instructions don't," Greg interrupted rudely. She pinched him and he coughed to hide his grimace. "I could perhaps apparate back to the Ministry and we can start an inquest, but I'm sure the Keeper wouldn't like that to happen."

"Yes…" the poor man said. "Yes, I'm sure he wouldn't. Maybe I… maybe I read incorrectly. Yes, that must be it. Right this way…"

And so the idiotic mouse man led the both of them with two very confused guards down the long winding path to the old wing of Azkaban. She didn't question her luck, didn't question the mousy man's nervous shaking hands, or the fact that Greg was going to be with her this time. She just walked because that was something she _could _do. She thanked the Gods and Merlin for her good luck. She absolutely did not cringe when the big iron door was dragged open and the both of them were pushed – and then locked – inside.

This time, she wasn't afraid. This time she pressed her ear to the metal door and waited until she couldn't hear the guard's retreating footsteps anymore and then waited a full five minutes more. And then she took Greg's hand and slowly walked with him down the corridor to the last cell on the left. When they reached there, they saw Draco facing them curiously, sitting on the floor cross legged with his head propped up on one hand.

"You came back," he said. By the inflection in his voice she assumed he was surprised, but she couldn't see it on his face. "And you brought a friend. How nice."

Greg didn't say anything. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he was as shocked as she had been yesterday, even though she had told him everything.

"I brought you more food," she said, rifling through her bag and handing the goods over through the bars. Draco took them from her without looking at her, his eyes still focused on Greg. "I… I needed to hear the rest of your story. We both did."

"Who are you?" Draco asked. His voice was neither unkind nor hostile. It was just there.

"Gregory Flint." For a second she thought he might stick his hand through the bars to shake Draco's hand and was preparing to stop him from doing something so _stupid, _but he didn't. "I would say it's nice to meet you, but under the circumstances…"

Draco barked a laugh. "Charming. Very charming. I assume you don't get along with your father – he never did like cheek. How is Marcus then, these days?"

"Dead," Greg snorted. Andrea wondered how that had happened and how she didn't know that. How could she have not asked about something like that? And how could Greg be so nonchalant about it? "But you're right. He didn't like me. Didn't like you very much either, from what I remember. Thought you were a cheeky little snot."

Draco's eyes were amused as he looked at Andrea for the first time that day. "I like this one. You should keep him."

"I…" She didn't know what to say. What _could _she say? "Um."

"A lot of trouble to go to for a girl that might not even like you, son," Draco said, sitting back down on his dirty cell floor. "You should be careful."

"_What_?" she asked. Greg coughed, taking a step away from her.

Draco shook his head. "You're here for my story, aren't you?"

She wondered where his confidence had come from. He had been rude yesterday, in the beginning, yes. But not this cocky person. She wondered what had changed between yesterday and today. She wondered if he would answer her if she asked. Probably not. She shouldn't push her luck. Things were going too well as it was and she thought maybe it would all fall apart if she questioned things too much.

"Yes, sir," she said, instead.

"Then I get to talk," Draco said, waving at them to sit down. Greg snorted in amusement, but still followed the instructions, pulling her down with him. "Where were we?"

**A/N: I shan't lie to you guys. I didn't like this chapter. I wanted to get rid of it, but couldn't because of the way I wrote the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed nonetheless. Not quite sure about when the next chapter will come out, but here is a sneak peek to tide you over:**

"Have you both bloody lost your minds?" she shrieked. Weasley had neglected to fully shut the door behind him in his haste, so I could hear her clear as day. "I am a _Ministry official _and I expect my testimony to be taken _seriously_, do you understand me?"

**UNSIGNED REVIEWS: **

**Sora: **What a lovely thing to say! Thank you.

**JaneAustenfan786: **Thanks! Glad you're enjoying.

**Silver: **Thanks! Hope this chapter answered all of your questions (and also solidified your love for Andrea/Greg).


	25. The Interrogation

**A/N**: This is a longer chapter! Sorry for the long break. I will endeavour to update as soon as possible! Hope you like this – I'm not sure how to feel about it, personally. I thought maybe it could do with a little trimming, but I shall let you all be the judge.

Thank you as always to the lovely reviewers: CrazyPhenom, Musicangel913, Guest, buttercup88, Blue Luver5000, Lady Moonglow, HarryPGinnyW4eva, PouleauPotter, GottaLuvSassyPonies, silver, Danny, Witbeyond, Guest, and Analena.

Hello to all the new readers. Drop a line and say hello!

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: THE INTERROGATION **

I was a wreck, I really was.

I must have been hyperventilating, sitting there all by myself in that interrogation room when they brought me in. They hadn't said anything and I hadn't asked questions. I knew how it worked. They had charmed the chains onto me and had left me there to stew in my own sweat.

This was exactly what I had planned to avoid, you know. Not just with Granger and our Bulgarian adventure, but from the very beginning. After my Death Eater trial, I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't find myself chained to a seat like this ever again. I had promised my mother that I'd stay safe, that I'd stay _free, _just before they'd dragged her away to St. Mungos forever.

And yet here I was.

And for what?

I was here because of a _girl_, I realized. A remarkable girl by any standards, but I was here because of her nonetheless. I quickly became shocked and disgusted with myself as this realization dawned on me. I had given up my life, my freedom, and my autonomy for a few pretty smiles and a girl holding my hand. I could have been in Romania, making a new life for myself. But here I was, trapped because I'd gotten too enamoured with a golden girl that had never been meant for me.

I felt like I had betrayed myself, had washed whatever opportunity I had had at a bleak future down the drain. How had I let myself get so utterly distracted? I thought about it, thought about the trek through the forest, thought about the sunshine, and I wanted to slap myself in disgust for all of it. I had wandered off the path I'd carved out for myself to enjoy these things. I had given it all up for a couple of weeks of vacation.

How could I have thought something like that was worth it? How could I have ever thought a _girl _would be worth my life, my freedom?

She wasn't. I didn't even really know her.

And yet here I was, chained to a chair.

By the time Weasley came in, I was ready to beg him for my release, even though the look on his face told me he still hated my guts and there was no way I was going to get out of this with just a stern warning. I suppose I couldn't blame him for hating me. I had always lorded my power over him in our youth. I imagined he was going to milk his position as much as he could. From his robes, I could tell he was pretty highly ranked as an Auror. I could tell my future rested on his whims. It was just the way it worked.

I just hoped his whims weren't violent. I could only hope and pray for the best.

He just sat there for a bit and stared at me. I sat there quietly because there wasn't much else I could do, could I? I wondered what he wanted from me. Was this tactic meant to make me want to confess? I supposed it would work with some people. But what was I supposed to be confessing to? And if I did confess to whatever it was, would they take it easier on me? But I didn't know. I didn't know what to say, even if I wanted to tell him everything he wanted to know.

"Alright Malfoy," Weasley finally said. "You are being held here for the violation of the terms of your parole set out at your Death Eater trial, for the destruction of room number 304 of the Grand Sofia Hotel, for assisting, provoking, and facilitating a war in Bulgaria, and unlawfully detaining a Ministry official for a month and a half."

"Wait-"

"You will be sent to Azkaban in accordance with the mandate set out in the Death Eater trials to await your sentencing hearing," Weasley continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "Your hearing will be held within the next six months. Your assets will be seized and disbursed to account for the damage done. Your family, friends, and acquaintances will be brought in for questioning to determine their part in your actions, and will be sentenced accordingly in line with the mandate. The Mandate sets out minimum sentences required for certain crimes, as I'm sure you're already aware."

He paused to stare at me and I stared back with wide eyes, my face pale, and my heart pounding uncomfortably in my chest. His face was blank. There wasn't even a look of hatred there anymore. He just stared at me, as if I was something he dealt with all the time. And I probably was. I wondered how many ex Death Eaters he'd given this exact same speech to. And then I realized I didn't want to know the answer to a question like that.

"The minimum sentence for unlawful detention of a Ministry Official is life in Azkaban without eligibility of parole."

I gripped the arms of my chair tightly, begin mindful not to struggle. The chains would only tighten if I struggled, I knew that from experience. I also didn't want Weasley to see me sweat from this, not if I could help it. It was a lost endeavour from the beginning, though. I couldn't see the satisfaction on his face, but it was there. I knew it was there.

I couldn't move, anyway, even if I tried. I was chilled to the bone. I had thought maybe it would be ten years. I'd heard of a couple of cases, or at least the rumour mill had churned such things out. I had been afraid because ten years was a long time to wait in a dirty prison cell, dementors or no dementors. I had expected twenty, because of my family name.

But life? _Life? _

And I'd thought I'd just be me, even if it was for life. But everyone I knew? Nott was in my apartment. He was probably there right now, unaware of what was about to befall him, just because he had the misfortune of knowing me. And the Greengrass'. They hadn't done anything wrong. All they'd ever done was pity me, given me a job when no one else would, and allow me to live in a world that didn't want any of us to thrive.

Oh gods, they were going to put Astoria in prison. That sweet, sweet girl. How on earth was she going to survive _Azkaban? _They were going to lock them all up right alongside me. And all because I'd been attracted to a fucking _smile… _

"Now," Weasley said, leaning back in his chair. "Your sentence isn't looking good for you, Malfoy. You're almost guaranteed to serve life and your friends are likely going to face tenner's each."

I could tell he was serious. I could tell he didn't give a damn, either.

"However, your cooperation during this interview may convince me to submit a recommendation to the sentencing committee. They may take my recommendation and use their prerogative of mercy. Or they might not, depending on how strong my recommendation is. That's all up to you, Malfoy."

"I…" I cleared my throat. "What do I need to do?"

"We can begin with a confession," Weasley said, point blank. It was just like I had anticipated. They were constantly looking to pin the crime on someone, these people. In this case, that person was naturally going to be me. "I will need you to drink this veritaserum."

He reached into his robes and pulled out a tiny vial that was only a quarter of the way full. I supposed Weasley had had a busy day if his stash was so depleted. Weasley waved his hand and the chains binding me to the chair loosened, allowing me further movement, but not releasing me completely. I wiped my sweaty hands over my trousers and reached forward to take his deadly offering. I unstopped it with trembling fingers and downed it without further thought. It did not do dwell on things you couldn't control.

"Very good," Weasley said, and I almost flinched. The way he said it made me feel humiliated, as if I was nothing but his good obedient dog. Well, maybe I was. Maybe that was all I was. Probably now that was all that I was ever going to be. "Now, please state your full name for the record."

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy."

"Date of birth?"

"June fifth, 1980."

"Did you kill Albus Dumbledore?"

"No," I said with a breath still caught in my throat. I closed my eyes. I hadn't been compelled to provide the whole story. Just the direct truth to the question. And that was good, in a way. It was some control, control over this impossible situation, with this impossible man. In this case, it would only serve me well to tell the truth, though. So I did. "Severus Snape killed Dumbledore. I… I let Death Eaters into Hogwarts that… that helped."

"Helped?" There was that ruthless glint in his eye. I don't think I could ever forget that ruthless glint in his eye as he stared at me. "Helped what?"

I gulped. "Kill Dumbledore."

He was silent for a moment, appreciating the effects of the truth potion.

"Why did you kidnap Hermione Granger?"

I nearly choked. "I didn't!"

"Why was she found with you?" he demanded, leaning forward. The look on his face was no longer just ruthless. It was intense. It was _demanding. _It was something more than a cool, calm investigation was supposed to be. I suppose this kind of situation demanded something… more, considering the people that were involved. I almost didn't blame him. "Why were you not with the rest of your delegation when they evacuated Bulgaria?"

So I told the story.

I told the _whole _story. I didn't feel compelled to give away every sordid detail, because that wasn't what Weasley had asked me for. In a way, that was a blessing in disguise. He had asked only for how I had gotten to the very end. I could tell him that without putting forward the whole complicated mess of Hermione Granger and I. I didn't think he'd want to hear about those things, anyway. So, I told him what was left.

I told him about Granger approaching me with an offer I just couldn't refuse and how much I had needed that money. I could tell Weasley got some kind of secret kick out of that, but I didn't take any offence to it. I'd always lorded my wealth over his head when we were kids. I could let him do this to me now silently. It's not like I had any control over the situation anyway.

I told him about the hotel, the wizarding quarter, the pureblood encampments…

I told him about the Minister's threat and the speech I had had to make, betraying everyone I'd ever held dear to me. I told him about Ivan and the rebellion, about the fire, destruction, and all of the death we had witnessed on our way back home. I even explained my Apparation ban and how Granger had refused to leave me. I could see the distaste on his face as I told him all about it.

I even told him about snapping my wand and our long, arduous trek.

He didn't believe any of it.

We must have been there for hours. His questions were endless and I tried to answer all of them as best as I possibly could, but he wasn't satisfied with anything I spewed at him, despite the fact that no one in history had ever successfully defeated the truth serum. He knew that, obviously. He was an Auror, after all.

"Why were you found in the pureblood encampments?"

"At first, I'd just gotten lost. It was an accident. But then I found a few distant friends-"

"Purebloods?"

"Yes, but –"

"Were they involved in the rebellion?"

"No, they weren't like that –"

And so it went.

Even though he knew I couldn't lie about a single thing he asked me, he still picked me apart, tried to rip my story to shreds. I think he was trying to understand how Granger could possibly have entangled herself with a mess like me. But that wasn't something I could help him with. Granger did what Granger wanted to do. No one knew why she did the things that she did and no one could stop her once she set her mind to it.

"Why did you snap your wand?" he demanded from me, some hours later. "If you were stranded in the forest, allegedly being chased by the rebels, why throw away your only weapon of defence?"

"My wand had limited capabilities because of my parole restrictions…" Even now it was hard to think about it, about that piece of wood I'd had for more than half my life. "And Her- Granger believed they were tracking us through my wand."

"Tracking how?"

"I…I don't know. Granger thought it was some kind of a … a locator spell. She said that they could use the restrictions on my wand to supress my magic and track us."

He looked at me strangely. "No such magic exists, Malfoy. Not even experimentally."

I shrugged. "That's what she told me."

"And Hermione Granger encouraged you to destroy your wand?"

"Yes."

The thing is, Weasley didn't even hate me, I don't think. Not at that moment. I just think he was concerned about Hermione associating herself with me. We had been missing for weeks, which was a lot longer than either of us had anticipated. There had been an uproar in the media that whole time we were gone when they found out Hermione and a death eater hadn't returned from Bulgaria. Some had even presumed the both of us dead. A lot of people had presumed I'd kidnapped or killed her. So, naturally, he was concerned.

He loved her. Everyone loved her. She was Hermione Granger.

What I didn't know – what I couldn't possibly have known – was that Weasley had been there. I mean, he'd been in the party of Aurors that had come to get us and take us home. He had seen Hermione and I on that hill and he had seen me standing that close to her, about to kiss her. I knew he fancied her – everyone in Great Britain knew that, maybe except Granger herself. Of course it would've made him concerned to find me with his girl. I just didn't know it at the time.

I would have told him that at this point I wanted nothing to _do _with his girl. I would've sworn to never see her again if he would just let me go and live my pathetic life in peace. And I would have kept that promise, too. But Weasley had all the power, and he wasn't going to let Death Eater scum like me get away so easily.

"And why were you on bad terms with Ivan, leader of the pureblood rebels?"

"I don't understand," I said with a sigh. I had sweated through my clothes by that point, we had been at it for that long. I was exhausted and woozy and parched from trying to defend myself. But it seemed Weasley was never going to be satisfied with anything I said. I should have anticipated this. I shouldn't have held out hope. "I was never on good terms with the man. I only ever met him once."

"Where you allege he attempted to kill you slowly by throwing you repeatedly against a wall burning in flames."

I cringed at the memory and the blunt way he said it. "Yes. The whole delegation witnessed it. Granger even healed me afterwards… in the forest."

"Why?"

"I think she didn't want me to die."

Weasley rolled his eyes. "Why did Ivan, the leader of the pureblood rebels, attempt to kill you?"

"I think because of the speech I made at the conference against the pureblood movement."

"And why did you make this speech?"

I wanted to bang my head against the desk. I probably would have if I thought it would stop us from continuing to go in these pointless circles. As it was, I only barely refrained from doing so. "Davies gave me my pre-written speech. It had the Minister's seal. I read directly off the page like I'd been instructed to do."

"Do you have a copy?" he demanded. For the first time that day, he actually seemed interested in what I had to say and I couldn't figure out why that might be.

"No."

"And why is that?"

"It was with my things in the hotel… which might be burned to a crispy by now, or at the very least lost and buried."

"What are your intentions towards Hermione Granger?"

"What?" I started.

"What are your intentions towards Hermione Granger?" he repeated.

His expression hadn't changed, nor had the look on his face. The look on his face was blank, as if he was asking me _any other question. _I didn't know what he was playing at, why on earth he would ask a question like that in an official investigation. When I opened my mouth to answer, I realized I didn't feel compelled to tell him anything at all. The veritaserum had run out.

"I…Look, Weasley, I really just needed to get paid, okay? I didn't sign up for any of that stuff, none of what happened," I said. "And then when we were running and all the buildings were on fire, I told her she should apparate and let me find my own way, but she said it was her _responsibility _to stay with me, or something like that."

And all of that was true, too. I hadn't even lied. But the best lies, my father had always said, weren't lies at all. Just masks. Distractions.

"Why were you –"

There was a commotion of some sorts outside the interrogation room and Weasley paused to listen. I stared at him, wondering what that next question could possibly have been. Perhaps, _why were you about to kiss my ex-girlfriend? Why were you having a romantic moment on a hilltop? Why are you such an idiot? Do you really not want to live? _

"How _dare _you use Ministry Tracking on me? Do you have any idea how… That's so out of protocol… Harry Potter, don't you _dare _tell me to calm down!"

I recognized the voice instantly, of course. Of course she would find me here, she would find me no matter where I was. She had told me herself. She wasn't going to leave me behind. It made me feel things I had decided in the last few hours I most certainly wasn't going to feel anymore, but how could I help something like that? I supposed in the grand scheme of things, all of this was inevitable. They were all pieces of a puzzle, falling into place.

"Excuse me," Weasley said, getting up and walking quickly out the door.

He probably recognized the danger someone like Hermione Granger posed. Or, he could probably hear the incredulous hysteria in her voice. Either way, it was the nicest thing he'd said to me in our entire lives.

There were angry, heated voices. I just couldn't make out the words, they were a little too muffled. I wondered what they could possibly be arguing about. Technically, whatever Weasley was doing was well within his rights as an Auror. He wasn't breaking any laws. Even I knew that. If Granger was going to get me out of here, then it was going to have to be through some kind of miracle. And then –

"Have you both blood lost your minds?" she shrieked. Weasley had neglected to fully shut the door behind him in his haste, so I could hear her clear as day. "I am a _Ministry Official_, and I expect my testimony to be taken _seriously, _do you understand me?"

There were a few more minutes of angry hissing voices, and then – "Hermione, you can't go in there –"

But since when had she ever obeyed an order like that from a Weasley?

When she saw me there, exhausted, dirty, and chained, she nearly lost it. "Let him go this _instant!" _

"Hermione, we can't just –"

"This instant!" she shrieked. "You can't just chain up an innocent person! What is… what is _wrong _with you? I can't even believe… who _are _you?"

They argued whilst Potter shook his head, as if he was used to their bickering. Waving his wand, he released me. They argued about that, too, so I didn't move in case they changed their minds and wanted to chain me up again to continue the interrogation. In the end, Weasley glared at everyone, Granger glared back at him, and Potter gave me several strange looks that I chose to ignore. I was too tired to do much of anything else.

"Can I… go then?" I finally asked, when no one said anything to me.

"Yes," Potter said, when no one else responded.

"Um… Who do I report to?" I asked. I turned to Weasley. "And where can I report my presence? The Auror department?"

"I already took care of all of that for you," Hermione finally said quite gently, but shooting one last dirty look at Weasley. I couldn't even enjoy it, I was that tired. "Come on. I've all your paperwork in my bag."

I trailed after her with a pit in my stomach, but it all felt like a dream. I knew I probably shouldn't have done it, probably should've asked her to hand it over to Weasley so he wouldn't have one more reason to be suspicious of me, but I just wasn't thinking clearly. I was just so relieved that it was all finally over. Or so it seemed to be.

I trailed after her, wondering what the fuck was going on. How could I just be free like that, just because she had said so? I kept my mouth shut, though. That bit I had become exceptionally good at over the years. We walked to the end of the corridor before she stopped, rifled through her bag, and handed me a small stack of papers, a bag, and a pouch."

"Your pay is on the top and the bag is all of your things that you left in my bag," she said with a smile. "And then your work papers. You're going to be working for the Greengrasses again."

"What about Nott?" I asked numbly, too gone to wonder how this miracle was even possible.

"Him too," she said with a bigger smile, as if we were still on good terms. AS if nothing had changed in the space of the last few hours. Though, I suppose, nothing _had _changed for her. She hadn't been interrogated. "I arranged it before we left. You start Monday."

"And today is…"

She laughed warmly. It made my insides hurt. "Today is Wednesday, Draco."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Weasley watching us from down the hall. I automatically slouched, attempting to appear harmless and draw attention away from myself. Averting my eyes was easy. She was always hard to look at. And looking at her now would only make what was to come harder. But I knew there was still a smile on her face – the smile that had been solely for me the last few weeks.

This was going to be the last time. I cringed violently.

I cleared my throat. "Thank you. Uh… for the papers and the things."

"Of course," she said lightly. "Do you want to maybe go and –"

"No," I said quietly. Weasley was glaring holes into me, I could feel it. If I looked at him now, he would haul me back in and start all over again. I knew it.

"Of course. You must be exhausted," she said. The concern over my wellbeing was first and foremost in her voice. I bet if I looked up, it would be shining on her face. It was all I could do to just… _not give in. _"Perhaps tomorrow we could –"

"I… we shouldn't. Not anymore."

"Oh," she said.

"I have to go," I said, as politely as I possibly could. "Thank you again. For um… everything."

The smile was gone now, her eyes wide, and I almost regretted putting that look on her face. Before she could do anything silly like shake my hand, I nodded at her and quickly made my way to the stairwell. Even as I made my way out the back entrance reserved for people like me, I could feel the weight of Weasley's glare at the back of my head.

I couldn't shake it off, no matter how fast I walked.

/

When I walked up to my beloved apartment door, the last remnants of adrenaline had completely left me. I was drained. I wanted nothing more than to just collapse in my bed and go to sleep for a week. I knew that was asking too much from everyone, but in my head that was the only way I was ever going to function again. If I ever _was _going to function again.

That was when I realized I didn't have any keys.

Of course I had no keys. I'd given them to Nott before I'd left. I only had the one set, after all. And Nott was still here. If I was being honest, in the panic I'd been in as I'd left the Ministry, I hadn't remembered he was still living in my apartment. On my way home, I'd even forgotten the man even existed. It made me feel a little bad – not because Nott was forgettable, but because in that moment I had wished for the man to disappear so I could have my space to myself again.

Could you blame me for wanting to be by myself after all I'd been through? But, as with everything in my life at that point in time, I swallowed my disappointment and all of my ire and attempted to make the best of it – or as much as I could possibly do under the circumstances. So I lifted my fist and knocked weakly. My heart wasn't in it, though. I didn't wanted to see anyone's face. I didn't want anyone to look at me in the condition I was in.

I was half contemplating finding a bench to sleep on, but the prospects of being robbed were a little bit too high for my tastes.

Especially since I'd just gotten paid. Maybe for the last time.

Before I could come up with any other options, the door was slowly creaking open and Nott was staring at me with bleary eyes. His mousy hair was mussed and he was dishevelled, half dressed, and nearly still half asleep. I would have to scold him for answering the door in such a state – didn't he know how easily he could get robbed and killed like that? – but later. Much later. When I had my sanity with me again.

When he realized who it was standing before him, his eyes widened comically, and he sputtered something nonsensical that my tired brain could not decipher. Suddenly, his arms were around me and he was sobbing. Actually sobbing. I didn't know what to do or how to take such a reaction from a man I barely knew anymore. I wondered how it was possible that someone like me had inspired such a strong emotion in anyone. Especially someone who should probably be happy that I was dead – that way he could just take my things and make a day of it.

"I thought you were dead!"

"Maybe we should step inside, mate," I said.

He had the decency to look embarrassed for violating my personal space. I appreciated that about the man. I figured that meant if he was going to stay here in my space indefinitely, he wouldn't be a total pain in my arse. I didn't want to think about such things, though. I didn't want to think about anything at all.

"You must be exhausted. Why don't you go have a shower and I fix you something to eat?" Nott suggested.

I was too tired to argue with him. Besides, it was a good idea. "Thanks, Theo."

He just nodded, turning away, and discreetly wiping his eyes.

Nott had somehow transformed my loo. He had created some sort of contraption with the bucket. There were tubes and wiring and some waterproof material holding it all together above the tub, attached to my never used showerhead. I came to the sudden realization that Nott had miraculously made my shower… usable. And as an actual shower. It was a luxury we hadn't had in the forest, of course, but it was a luxury I didn't think I'd have again after leaving Sophia.

It was so miraculous, I was afraid to touch it. I opted to use a cloth and water instead. Even though Nott had clearly labelled two cords – _hot _and _cold _– I didn't want to destroy his work. I tended to do things like that. I clearly destroyed everything I touched. I could see Granger's sad face in the front of my mind. It wouldn't leave me no matter how hard I scrubbed myself with that damp cloth.

I could smell Nott warming something up and it wasn't unpleasant. I had to admit, I was surprised. I wondered what else he had changed in my pathetic apartment. I wondered if he would take all of these things with him when he left – if I ever got the courage to make him leave this place. But how could I think about such a depressing thing? I didn't want to be thinking at all.

Instead, I went over to the package Granger had given me and opened it.

There were a lot of things in the bag. Everything she had ever transfigured for me, a toothbrush, combs, a pair of shoes, and even _that _blanket. That same fucking blanket from the train. I pushed it away, closing the bag. I couldn't bear to make myself look at it. The thought of her putting this together for me so sweetly, so thoughtfully, made me want to cry.

I opened the pouch with my pay instead, but that was a bigger mistake, something that was just too much for my fragile mind to handle in the state that it was. It was more money than I'd seen in years – all galleons, and I think more money than I make in a year. Maybe _two _years. There had to be some sort of mistake. She had to have made some kind of mistake in giving this to me.

"Draco?" Theo called, knocking softly on the door. "Everything okay in there?"

"Yeah," I croaked. I had to clear my throat and pinch myself to stop shaking. "I'll… I'll just be a minute."

Flipping through the pages, I realized she had gone to the Death Eater's reporting centre for me – on my behalf. She had paid my tax for the reparations, clearly from her own pocket. At the bottom of my pay slip, she had clearly forced one of the clerks to write in a non-taxable bonus. I couldn't believe my eyes. But there – right where it always was – right there in the corner was the Ministry approval stamp. It was official. It was all _mine. _

And she hadn't been lying. My work papers were there, too.

_Employment: Greengrass, Daily Prophet. Position: Photographer. _

I was a fucking _photographer. _And it was true, too. There was old Greengrass's signature. It was official. The Ministry had stamped this too.

How was it possible?

And then I understood how all of this was possible. Right at the bottom of the package was a single sheet of paper. On it was her very neat scrawl, all curves and loops, just like her personality. Looking at this now, knowing that she had kept this with her through everything that had happened, finally broke me. A few tears escaped, even though I tried my hardest to prevent them from falling.

_I Hermione Granger, hereby declare that I shall not wrongly accuse Draco Malfoy of any crime. Furthermore, I assert that I shall not recommend Draco Malfoy be sentenced to Azkaban without a free and fair trial. _

_Signed, _

_Hermione Jean Granger. _

It was our contract. It was how she had gotten me to trust her in the first place. Seeing this now, having it as proof in my hands… How could I have ever doubted her? She had the purest intentions of everyone in this godforsaken world. She would always do everything in her power to see justice done. I knew this. This sheet of paper was proof.

But there were just too many things that weren't in her control. Like Weasley. Like the Ministry. I was never meant to come back here and no matter what she said and did, that was always going to be true. Still, I couldn't find it within myself to destroy the contract, even though looking at it made me want to cry. I could only tuck it away along with the rest of the things I never wanted to see again. That included every memory I had of Hermione Granger.

I vowed to myself I would try my best to never see her again.

**A/N: Not what you were expecting, is it? Let me know what you thought. Here is a spoiler of the next chapter: **

"You were right, you know," I said, turning to face him.

"About what?"

"She's dangerous."

**UNSIGNED REVIEWS: **

**Guest: **That's definitely an interesting theory. You'll unfortunately have to wait a little (or a lot) to sit confirmed (since we've got a lot left to go, still). Your comments about Draco/Greg/Andrea are also very insightful! I completely agree. Thanks for reviewing. – M.

**Silver: **Thank you for reviewing, as always. Hope this first segment of Draco's story wasn't disappointing! (And also if this tiny little bomb tells you anything about what's to come). See you in the next one! – M.

**Danny: **Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying. I will try my best to be prompt with the updates.

**Guest: **Thank you for having faith. I'm glad you like the concept (and no longer think it's stupid). Going to apologize for the lack of updates in advance! Hope you are well. –M.


	26. All Tied up in a Nott

**A/N: **I would apologize for the delay… but I know none of you want to hear it. So, moving on!

I quite like this chapter, if I'm being honest. It's the longest chapter of the story, I think.

Thank you to the lovely reviewers: Elantil, CrazyPhenom, silver, PouleauPotter, Lady Moonglow, smallwren, MyLittleHeartShapedBox, SimpsonSortia, Sora, HarryPGinnyW4eva, witbeyond, dragonwingedangel, irezei, Analena, buttercup88, rambles, Blue Luver5000, highonstereo, Guest, haisau, and .

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: ALL TIED UP IN A NOTT**

_**SEPTEMBER 2001**_

I can't remember what Nott had cooked up for me. To be honest, I can't remember if I even left the bathroom at all. One second I remember tucking away all my things in that secret crack in the wall behind the toilet and the next… well, there's nothing there. It's like a gaping crack in my memory that I can't seem to fix, no matter how hard I think about it.

The more I think about it, the hazier it becomes. I remember only flashes from that point on. I woke up in my bed and it was daylight. I turned over to open my eyes again, but the daylight was no longer there. Nott was, however, sleeping peacefully next to me. I remember rolling over, feeling hot, sweaty, and nauseated. And then it was suddenly late afternoon.

Nott was gone. He was probably at work. I couldn't for the life of me remember what that was like. I wondered if I still had that dream job waiting for me. I wondered if I was even up to getting out of bed to check.

But really, I didn't care anymore.

I could leave those galleons behind for Nott, climb up the stairs of this dreadful apartment building, and step off that roof ledge. I thought about falling and how that would feel like. Would I feel the butterflies in my stomach as I reached the pavement or nothing at all? Would anyone notice? No, probably not. No one was here to miss me, anyway. And I would die free. That was all I had ever wanted, really, to die free. I could jump off and that would be true. _I have no strings on me –_

"Draco?"

I started. Nott was standing there at the door. When had he arrived? Looking out the window, I realized it was evening already. It was disconcerting. Time was passing by much too fast and I wasn't even here to appreciate it. How long had I been sitting there? More importantly, why on earth did it even matter? I heard Nott shift, but it was miles away. I took a breath and then another. I wondered if another day had passed in that moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked me.

I looked up at him from my seat on the bed – the only seat in the apartment – and wondered when he had stepped in front of me. And I wondered about it. Was I okay? But that wasn't really the question he was asking me, was it? I suppose he must want to know whether I was crashing and burning. And, if that was to be the case, would I kindly not take him down with me?

I thought about the roof again. I thought about looking down into the street and just stepping off. It would be easy. It would be incredibly easy. I felt the floor move beneath me and I wondered if maybe I was already there and it was just a matter of giving up. Was I going to give up? The thought made me incredibly dizzy.

"I don't feel so well," I finally admitted.

"Wash up," he suggested after staring at me a while. The look on his face was hard. I wondered if he could see right through me. Maybe he could see himself in me, the way I was just then. I don't know. I didn't ask. "I'll make you some soup."

There was the Nott I knew. Calm and cautious. There were no tears, least of all for me. He was practical, and I liked that about him. He shuffled away and I stared after him, watching him unpack his bag. And it _was _his bag. I didn't recognize it as being mine. I didn't recognize the clothes he was wearing, either. Clearly a lot had changed since I had left.

"What day is it?" I asked, stretching.

"It's Friday," he called back. "You slept two whole days."

Do you resent me for it, I wondered?

I didn't ask, of course. I didn't want him to poison me or kill me in my sleep. Instead, I stuck my head under the sink and drank until I couldn't stomach any more, and then washed myself. I tried my best not to look at the shower contraption Nott had created. One day I would. Today just wasn't that day. Change is only ever good in small doses, my mother used to say.

I did feel a lot clearer after the food and water. Stretching helped, too, but my bones were made of lead. I just wanted to sink back into bed and sleep for a decade. The pressure in my head had eased a little, but Nott still gave me three whole capfuls of whiskey. I appreciated it, even though the liquor was still cheap. It eased the pounding somewhat. It also made laying down next to Nott a hell of a lot less awkward.

What could I say? Going away for a while made things like this strange to adjust to again.

"What happened to you?" Nott finally asked. He wasn't looking at me, just calmly staring up at the ceiling. I wondered what he could possibly be thinking. "What did they do to you?"

I wondered what I could tell him. The whole story was just so impossible, I wonder if he could even believe me. I thought about the impossible adventure I'd been on and how I'd only just narrowly survived it. It made my throat dry slightly. Only slightly, though, because I was already parched beyond imagination. It really didn't get any drier than that.

Suddenly, I realized I was glad my story was over. I'd had too much excitement already, enough to last me a life time. The only thing I wanted to worry about now was paying the bills and drinking enough water. Those were worries I could stomach.

"They've got a different kind of system in Bulgaria," I finally said to him. If I wanted to move on from this, I was going to have to get some help. Nott was here. Nott was helping me. We had to begin somewhere. "They've got their purebloods in encampments, like –"

"I know," he interrupted. I raised a brow at him and he shrugged, his face reddening slightly. "I work at the Prophet now. They covered it all, while you were gone. I asked you what happened with _you_."

Well, wasn't that something? Since when did errand boys have time to keep up with the news? There was obviously something he wasn't telling me, more to his story than he was letting on. I wondered if he would share it with me, like I was sharing mine with him, but I didn't push. I guess I figured it wasn't really my business. Still, I saw him blush and wondered like hell what on earth was going on.

"The Minister's Office owled me a speech to read at the conference," I said. The memory was still fresh in my mind, having recounted it for Weasley just recently. The thought of it still filled me with shame. If only I'd had a little more sense. If only I'd had a little more courage. "Had no choice, really. Had to read it. It was all about how purebloods _deserved _what they got."

Nott made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, but didn't say anything else. I was grateful for that. I didn't need him to tell me it wasn't my fault, or that it _was_ my fault and I should be eternally sorry. It just waswhat it was and he left it at that_. _

"And then they attacked," I said with a sigh. I saw the confused look on his face and shook my head. "The pureblood rebels. They attacked the city, burned things to the ground. Their leader tried to kill me for making that awful speech… and then we ran. I couldn't apparate, so Her- Granger stayed with me. We ran into the forest…"

"…And then?"

And then I fell in love.

"And then we got picked up somewhere off the border of Bulgaria. They interrogated me for hours, thought I'd _kidnapped _her…" I trailed off, shuddering. I didn't want to think about those hours, locked in that cramped room with Weasley. "And then Granger came. She snapped her fingers and had them release me."

"Damn," Nott breathed. "They just let you go?"

"Well," I shrugged. "Here I am."

"That's…"

"Yeah," I agreed.

He didn't say anything for so long, I figured he'd fallen asleep. I didn't blame him, really. I remembered the hours of sleep I'd gotten as an errand boy. Sleep had been a precious commodity that I hadn't been able to afford to squander in that previous life. I wondered what it would be like now that I was going to be a photographer – if that was indeed still happening. Would it be better or worse? Was I still dreaming?

"He's in jail, you know," Nott finally said, yawning.

"Who?"

"The pureblood rebel leader. Ivan what's his name," Nott said. "The rebels couldn't keep control of the Ministry there, even after they killed their Minister. They only lasted about ten days or so before the army came in and took over everything. Everything was covered in the prophet."

Well that was news. That was big news. It meant that Hermione and I had taken that long trek through the forest for no reason. If the rebel regime had fallen so quickly, all we would have had to do was stick it out in Sophia and then she would've been able to go home safe and sound. No wonder they'd thought I'd kidnapped her. We had been missing for entirely no good reason. All this time, the government there had been friendly – not a threat in sight to someone like Hermione Granger.

"We were in the news, weren't we," I said, cringing at the implications. Now Weasley's questions made sense. Everything was making sense. "They thought I'd kidnapped her."

"Not exactly," Nott mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"They never released your name. One day, Roger Davies came in and it was just before we were about to send out the evening prophet…" He trailed off, as if remembering.

I tried to picture it with him, what Davies must have sounded like. I remembered him standing before me in that room full of flames. I remembered his voice just before he had apparated away, leaving me and Hermione to fend for ourselves. That wasn't fair, I supposed. How was Davies to know that I couldn't apparate? How was Davies to know we would cut ourselves off from the world and take our sweet time coming back?

He had done everything in his power, after all. I had to respect that.

"He tried to get the writers not to write about it at all, but could only get them to leave out your name. Waved around a contract and everything… Ministry policy something or another."

It seemed as though I had more than one debt to pay Davies. I knew he hadn't done it for me, in particular. He was doing his job and I _knew, _I knew in my heart that whatever he had done, he had done it for Hermione's sake only. But still, I felt indebted to him. It made my skin itch. I owed too many people too many things and I had very little to my name to pay all of it off with.

"There were riots here," Nott added. I started at the admission and he waved his hand to calm me. "Nothing new… Just more _violent_… People didn't like reading about a Ministry official missing with a Death Eater. Some took out their aggravation. Some of those people always do."

"Is that why you're limping?" I asked gently.

He didn't acknowledge my question, just continued to stare at the ceiling. I felt my throat close up and my eyes burn. I wish Nott had never opened his mouth. In fact, I wish I had never woken up. Everything was just wrong and it was all my fault. All of this was _my fault. _

The whole rebellion had been for naught. The regime had only lasted for ten days! All those people – Ingrid! – they had all died to have freedom for _ten days! _And my freedom? My non-existent freedom? Well, my brethren had suffered for it, had probably died on my behalf as I had traipsed along happily in a forest with a golden girl that was never meant for me.

But how could this be my fault?

This was all happening because of _her. _Because of her stupid need to involve herself in things she had no business messing with. If she had never attempted giving me that stupid job, I would've never made that stupid speech, and that fucking rebellion just wouldn't have happened the way it had. Ingrid would've been alive and happy. Nott wouldn't be limping. Victor Jr. would've had a family to go home to. Now no one had homes at all.

"You were right, you know," I said, turning to face him.

"About what?"

"She's dangerous," I said with a gulp. "I should have listened to you. I should have never gone. None of this would have ever happened."

Nott patted my shoulder, shaking his head. "Would've happened with or without you mate."

"But-"

"People have been taking their anger out on us for years. It'll pass," he said. "Eventually, maybe a long ways down the line, but it _will _pass. It always does."

I nodded because it was true. It was probably the wisest thing he had ever said to me. I added it to the list of things I appreciated about him. Besides, he had a point. I may have been infatuated with a girl I couldn't have, but in due time it would pass. It might take an incredibly long time, but, as with all things, this insanity I had developed would pass too.

I promised to myself that I would forget her, never think about her, and make myself believe that she did not exist. I would tell myself that I absolutely did _not _love her. Eventually, it would be as if none of this had ever happened. I would go back to my life, back to that routine, and her name would just be another name for the tabloids and another name I had once known. Nothing more that though, though, because she was nothing like me.

And I would go on living the life that I was meant to live in the only kind of peace that I knew – the kind of a work addicted automaton. I did not love her. I could not love her. She was going to want nothing to do with me now, anyway, and that fact justified the rest of it. I promised to myself and to whatever deity out there that was listening that I would never see her again.

I had to accept that if I was going to stay here with Nott, she was not for me. And if I couldn't, then… well, that roof ledge was always going to be waiting for me.

That was it.

I was never going to see her again. Somehow, the decision made me feel a lot better, lighter, as if I had done something right for the first time in a very long time.

"Thanks, Theo."

"For what?"

But I couldn't answer, because I was already drifting off to sleep.

/

"Do you _have _to wear that?"

Nott didn't acknowledge me. In fact, his face was so neutral I might as well not have been there whatsoever. We continued our way down the busy street – goddamn Saturday with all the goddamn muggles tourists – whilst I continued to stare at the back of his head. I felt light. There was a bounce in my step, even. Poking fun at him made me feel infinitely better.

"Seriously, do you _have _to wear that?"

Nott rolled his eyes and didn't acknowledge my question. The way he was walking, it was like I wasn't even there, almost like he was embarrassed to be seen with me. I wasn't sure if I should be proud or irked by this behaviour. The way he was holding himself up straight, his walk all confident and purposeful… It was almost like we were back at Hogwarts. I might as well have not existed at all in his world.

I wanted to say, you stupid fool, you wouldn't even _be _here if it wasn't for me! But I didn't. I had a lot more self-restraint in me than that. I still needed him to get into Diagon Alley, considering I was still wandless. It wouldn't do to piss off my only half ally. Still, I wondered if he thought those things from time to time. I wondered if he might even be thinking those things now. I stared at the back of his head and couldn't help but grin. Alright, so it was a smirk.

"I mean, you only look like a lunatic," I said, poking him between his shoulder blades. He stiffened a little, but his posture was still impeccably straight. I was envious. Even though we were only walking through muggle London, I wanted to duck, slouch, and take cover. It was dangerous to draw attention to yourself. I didn't understand how Nott could suddenly be so… so _confident_. "Or like some kind of Hufflepuff."

That must have been the last straw for him. He turned around and jabbed his finger in my chest. We were roughly the same height, but in that moment it felt like he was a whole foot taller than I was. It was amazing and frightening all at once. I wanted to ask him who he was and how on earth he'd gotten there. Could he maybe take me with him?

"You got a problem with my hat, Malfoy?"

"Uh…" I cleared my throat and took a leaf out of his book, standing up straighter. "I reckon I do."

"If I take it off, you reckon you can shut the fuck up about it?" he grumbled, his eyes narrowing. I forced myself to smirk and nod, which made him roll his eyes again. "_Fine. _Take it. Not another word out of you."

"Thanks!" I said, donning the cap for myself and resuming our journey. "I was starting to burn a little."

I could feel his murderous gaze at the back of my head and had to force myself to calmly accept it. Somehow it wasn't amusing to provoke him anymore. It's not safe to play with a live wire, after all. There were things that had happened in my absence and they seemed to have made Nott into this… _person. _How was that possible when I was still less than dirt?

I forced myself to plaster a smile on my face for him even as I contemplated the likelihood of him stabbing me in the back.

/

"Another it is," the shop assistant said with a sigh. "Just a second."

We were in Ollivanders – where else were you supposed to go to buy a wand? It was sweltering hot to the point where there was sweat streaming down my face and Nott was occupying the only empty seat, fanning himself. There were piles upon piles of wands that my magic had apparently rejected. I was thirsty. My feet were aching. This was taking _far too long_. I didn't remember this being such a difficult task… but then, Mr. Ollivander had been alive back then. Now his business was being run by these mediocre shop assistants that couldn't tell Oakwood apart from Pine.

"How long do you think this is going to take?" I grumbled.

"What do you think?" Nott said, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "It takes as long as it's supposed to take. Quit your whinging. You shouldn't be so ungrateful."

I stared at him as he stared at the ceiling. I felt a bead of sweat slide down the side of my neck and disappear under my collar. I remember thinking, _it really shouldn't be this hot for a September_, but it was and I could see Nott's flushed skin stand out against his dark shirt that _clearly wasn't mine. _He sure had an awful lot of new clothes, especially for the short space I'd left him in my apartment. I wondered how he'd gotten them. I wondered who the fuck he was and what he'd done with the meek bleeding man I'd rescued from death.

I wondered why he had all those things when I didn't.

"Do you have a _problem_?" I blurted out. I honestly hadn't meant to. I had really only meant to think it. But I supposed the filter between my brain and mouth had been permanently damaged with my lovely time with Her-_you know who. _"I mean, where do you get off, sitting there in your stupid hat and your _stupid _clothes, telling me what I should and shouldn't do!"

I hadn't meant to say that at all. His eyes bulged, wide and surprised. He had no idea what I was talking about. _I _had no idea what I was talking about. The words weren't for him, I realized. They were for me. How he was then, all bold and confident and new, that was exactly what I wanted to be. And it was sad because that was exactly who I was _supposed_ to be. I was meant to be elsewhere with new clothes and a new spine and a new personality.

"You're right," he said. His tone was even. "Sorry."

_Who are you kidding? _I wanted to say. _It's not your fault. None of this has ever been your fault. _

Instead I just shrugged. "Okay."

"Not really," he sighed. "I know how it must look."

I wondered if he had any idea how it _did _look, how odd it was to come back home to a dead man flourishing. He was sitting up now, staring at me with guilty eyes. I had no idea what he had to be guilty about. Because he was doing better than I had at my own life? Because he had used me as a stepping stone? I didn't want him to think that. At least, I didn't feel any negative emotions towards that bit at all. Maybe I was just a little bit jealous. In that second, it looked like he had everything I had ever wanted. And I wanted to have it, too.

"Look, Malfoy," he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. The hat I'd given back to him became lopsided on the top of his head and he looked more like the boy from my sixth year dorm. "I didn't mean to tell you this way-"

"Here we are!" the shop assistant sang, her cheeks rosy, and her hair matted with sweat. I turned away from Nott, not quite sure that I wanted to hear what he had to say. He'd gotten serious too fast. "Hopefully _one _of these works for you."

"Hopefully," I muttered.

It took another long fifteen minutes of awkward silence. Nott sat there, unmoving, and staring at my back. I could feel his eyes on me. The shop assistant was cheery and happy. It was probably because she had absolutely no idea who I was. I was a paying customer after all. No Ex Death Eater had the kind of money to come into a shop like this. Wands were rare commodities, well out of our reach. And the girl was young, absolutely young and unassuming. So of course she was nice. That was her job.

She took my galleons with a smile and even wished me a nice day. I almost wanted to tell her who I was to see it all melt off of her face. Hopefully, her boss – whoever he was – wouldn't tear out her throat for this. But who knows. Maybe her boss was as sympathetic as Mr. Greengrass was.

In that case, maybe no one in this world was sympathetic at all.

"Draco-"

"Not here, okay?"

"Okay," he relented, though I could see that he really didn't want to.

The look on his face was reluctant. Maybe he had built up the courage for that moment and maybe he was afraid that that courage wasn't going to be there by the time we got back to my tiny apartment. I knew I was right. I could see it plastered upon his face, an uncomfortable truth just waiting to pass his lips. That was why I didn't want to hear it. Anything that requires courage almost always inevitably leads to trouble. I didn't have the capacity for such things. I had no room in my life for trouble.

Could you blame me for taking the long way home? Or really, just walking about town in circles. Don't get me wrong, I didn't stick around in Diagon Alley. I tended to steer clear of all places magic as a rule, and I didn't plan on changing this _now _of all times when I had a target painted onto my back for all I knew. By this point, I was wise enough to recognize that muggles wouldn't bother me overly much. After all, they had no idea who I was. They had no reason to believe I was any sort of threat to them. For all they knew, I was one of them.

Maybe that was what Nott was thinking.

Perhaps he thought I was a threat to him and I wouldn't even blame him for thinking so. After all, he had only just gotten secure. He finally had a job and what not. Maybe he thought me coming back to all of this mess would only put him at risk for losing it all again. Maybe he had taken preventative action and was trying to get rid of me. Permanently. It made a knot grow at the pit of my stomach just thinking about it.

It made me speed up, too. Nott didn't complain. He just trailed behind me. That to me screamed suspicious activity.

We must have walked for hours. At least two. I can't remember it very clearly now. I just remember the pavement beneath my feet, the press of bodies as we walked through busy London streets, and the blistering heat that made our clothes stick to our bodies, all drenched in sweat. I was burning from the inside out, but that was better than facing what lay ahead of me, in my opinion.

When I caught a glimpse of Nott, his face was tomato red. But he didn't complain one bit. He just followed me silently. I thought that was a sure sign of a guilty conscience if anything ever was. How could it not be?

I wondered what it could possibly be. I had done a lot of incriminating things around him, after all. The first and foremost was buying this wand without telling the Ministry first.

As far as I knew, you didn't have to get approved or anything like that, but there was this _notification _procedure. People in my position rarely had the money for new wands, so the Death Eater Regulation Office had this process for approving you for funding. That's how they knew all of our magic was regulated. No one had ever been approved for funding, as far as I knew. And I was sure no one ever would.

But I hadn't needed the funding, thanks to Granger. I hadn't had to go through any sort of process. I supposed it was unprecedented, some kind of loop in the system no one had anticipated.

Still, I wasn't meant to have a wand without restrictions – that rule was clear as day as part of my parole conditions. Even now, just holding the packaged parcel was making my hands buzz with energy, the weight of something heavy just gone from my soul. I probably should have reported myself to the Ministry right then and there and had them put the restrictions on me. It would have avoided any kind of trouble – _hopefully. _

But…

It was really stupid, but I wanted to feel that buzz for a little while longer before agreeing to be shackled again.

Nott could probably report me for this. Maybe he already had.

Or maybe he had informed the authorities about Granger and me. She had visited my apartment after all, all those weeks ago. He probably suspected that something had gone on between us. He could probably go straight to Weasley and Weasley would likely invent ways to get me the fuck away from his perfect, beautiful girl. Even though I had no intentions of ever seeing her again. Even though I was _not _in love with her –

"I'm seeing Astoria!" Nott blurted out from behind me.

I stopped immediately and turned around to face him. "What?"

"Astoria," he said tiredly, rubbing his hand over his face. "I'm seeing her… oh god, I think I'm going to be sick."

He walked away from me, shaking his head and muttering to himself. I trailed after him, numb with shock. Of all the things I had imagined, that had not been on the list. I guess I had assumed that Nott's life had revolved around me. I guess that tells you just how self-centred I still was, even then. Still, this was big. Nott had apparently tied himself into something bigger than himself.

He stumbled over to a bench and collapsed into a pile of limbs. Looking around, I realized we had wandered over to a posh residential area. I knew the place. It was nice, though the muggles here were snooty and had always stared at me with suspicion whenever I had made the mistake of coming here. It was deserted today, though. It was much too hot to be outside, especially if you didn't have to be. The sun was beating down on us, baking us where we sat. The air was still and heavy. All I could do was sit down next to him.

"Look, I'm sorry," Nott finally said, resigned. "I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did."

"How?" I asked curiously.

He flushed and shook his head, but I gave him a look that said _don't you bloody dare keep this from me. _He stared at me, maybe assessing how serious I was. I had to know, though. This was Astoria, after all. This was the girl that had fussed over me all of this time. She was the boss's daughter! How could he keep the details away from me this long? This was something that affected the both of us!

Or maybe I was just being a nosey git. Either way.

"Well…" he mumbled. "We'd dated back at Hogwarts."

"_What?" _

"Yeah. Fifth year, after my dad got arrested." He snorted. "Remember that? Guess she felt bad for me."

I laughed. "Sounds just like her, yeah."

"We dated all that summer and the next year. But then… Well, you know what happened," he said with a nonchalant shrug. I was tempted to tell him that it didn't suit him, this attempt to be cool about such things, but I refrained. I wanted to know what happened next. "She moved away with her family. Begged me to come with her, too… but it was too late. My father came back and the war started."

We sat there for a while in silence. I wondered if he was imagining it now and regretting his decisions. It surprised me, I had to admit. He had had the choice to leave and it had been there, and it had begged with its pretty little face. He could have avoided this all so easily and he had let that chance get away. I wondered if it killed him inside that he had let something like that happen, that he had had an opportunity at another life, and he'd just watched it go by.

I was jealous.

Nothing like that had been offered to me, especially not on a silver platter. I hadn't had a choice, not a real one. I'd had a monster living in my house who had held a want to my parents' heads. That was even before the war had begun. My choices back then hadn't been real and the fact that Nott really _had _a choice left a bitter taste in my mouth. Why him and not me? Everyone wanted a different life. I was no different than anyone else.

But then I remembered the forest I'd been in and walking away from Granger. I realized with shame that I _had _had a choice and I had willingly watched it go by, too. I could have let Granger take care of herself. I knew now that she would've probably been absolutely fine. The rebels had lost their power shortly thereafter. No one would've killed Hermione Granger, not even filthy rebels. The war aside, I knew I was here now all because of my own stupid mistakes.

Shame filled me for silently judging Nott. I promised I would try my best to never do it again, not if I could help it.

"So what happened, then?" I asked clearing my throat. "I left, you took my job, and she jumped right back into your arms?"

"I swear, it wasn't like that!" he insisted. He was deeply embarrassed, I could see. It made me want to smile, but I didn't know how he would take it, so I refrained. "It was soon after your conference went haywire. Granger was missing, there were attacks, riots, and…"

"She found you all bloodied and bruised," I concluded. He was blushing so hard his face was nearly purple, but I ignored it. I could see in my mind how it would have happened. She was sweet like that, Astoria. Violence had never suited her. All she wanted to do was take care of everyone. "And you let her take care of you."

"Not at first, but-"

"But she's very persistent," I surmised. "I know. Personal experience."

"I'm sorry," he breathed, cringing.

"For what? Having a girlfriend?"

"No, but-" Nott paused, confusion in his eyes. "You're not upset?"

"No. Why would I be?"

"She said you would be upset…"

And then it all made sense. It started with a chuckle and grew. His terseness these last few days, the secrecy, the odd questions, and all the new clothes. Everything finally made sense to me. Soon, I was laughing a full bellied laugh, my head tilted back, and the sun burning my face. He was incredulous. He thought I was crazy and had lost it. But I couldn't help myself. He thought Astoria and I had been together. _Together, _together.

"We didn't roll that way, mate," I assured him.

"But she said-"

"Yeah, we were promised to each other before the war," I nodded. "And she felt bad for me. I didn't dissuade her from being nice to me, because… I was lonely and she's the boss's daughter. How was I supposed to say _no_? Honestly mate, I didn't even kiss her."

"Well that's a relief," he grumbled. I had to chuckle. "You could have _mentioned _that."

"How was I supposed to know you were going to shack up with the boss's daughter?" We laughed so hard, Nott actually choked on his own saliva. I didn't know that was possible. How was that possible? Or was Nott just a dweeb? We laughed until we couldn't breathe and were dizzy from the heat. "How does Greengrass feel about all of this anyway?"

"Well," Nott said, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "He doesn't know. I expect he wouldn't life me nearly as much if he knew I was snogging his youngest in the storage room."

I whistled. I couldn't tell if he was blushing or not, he was far too red from the sun. I got up and brushed my pants off, not that that helped much. Offering him a hand, I hauled him up and we began our trek back to the apartment, where it was hopefully a lot cooler than it was out here. It wasn't a sure bet, but we would have to take it. What other options did we have in those days anyway?

"He's always hated me," I told Nott, shielding my eyes from the sun. "Always made my life miserable, obviously. Look at you, with your weekends off… Think he could never get over the fact my family's been richer than his all his damn life. I wonder if that's why he _really _gave me the job."

"To make you his little house elf?" Nott laughed in glee.

"Too bad I didn't snog his daughter when I had the chance," I winked.

"Careful," Nott scolded, nudging me with his shoulder. "Though he does _love _me."

"Does he?"

Nott shrugged. "My mother helped them get out of here before the war started. Then the Dark Lord got her."

That was sobering. "I'm sorry."

Nott shrugged again. "What can you do? Better dead than here, I suppose… But Greengrass just makes life easy for me."

"Lucky you," I growled. "Bet he got you all these new things as well."

Nott laughed and it was warm in an entirely different way. "But you're a photographer now. Things are going to change.

"I suppose so," I said with a smile. And it was a genuine smile.

We walked home together and shared a pretty stale supper. It wasn't much cooler inside the apartment than it was outside of it, and the next day the water tank went all wonky, so we didn't have water for two whole days. But I was light. It wasn't impossibly dreary anymore. If anything good had come out of this insane story of mine, it was those quiet days I shared with that not so broken man.

/

"You're going to be working with Sanford and Creevey. You can find them in the media room."

And that was it. No hell, good morning, or welcome back. No, oh you survived, that's a nice surprise. Old Greengrass was not happy to see me. As much as I had joked around with Nott, I had always that that the man had felt sorry for me but couldn't really afford to associate himself with the likes of me – but we were all in the same boat, after all. It wasn't like that at all, clearly, judging by the look on his face. Whatever community he was a part of, I was definitely not a part of it.

Maybe Death Eaters didn't have communities.

"Yes, sir," I said. I wondered if I ought to salute to his sour old highness, but he hadn't even heard me. He was no longer paying attention. In his mind, I was probably dead and rotting away in Bulgaria. "I'll just be on my way, then."

I suppose after everything we had been through together, he didn't appreciate being told that he had to keep me around if he didn't want to, especially by someone like Granger. She was a child in his eyes, after all, and as much a part of the new administration that made his life difficult as the Ministry was. Maybe he just missed the absolute power he had had over me. I couldn't tell you. What did I really know about him, honestly?

The media room was the second biggest office in the Daily Prophet floor, behind Mr. Greengrass's office of course. The senior writers all had their own offices and the junior writers shared two rooms to themselves. The media room, on the other hand, was occupied by a photographer and an artist that dealt with all of the non-written work of the newspaper. All ads, all pictures, all the cartoon work for editorials passed through this room and had to be approved by Bill Sanford and Dennis Creevey. Sure, the newspaper had contractors, part time employees, and people sending in things as a one off all the time, but those two dealt with all of it.

I hadn't spoken to either of them in all of my time here. Dennis Creevey was rarely in the office and Bill Sanford rarely left it. Either way, there was very little reason for me to have ever ventured towards this side of the office before today. The thought made me slightly nervous. I realized I had never actually stepped foot into the media room before.

I felt stupid knocking, but I did. What would you have done in that situation?

I recognized Creevey when he answered the door and when he wandered farther into the office, I saw Sanford occupying one of the two desks they had crammed in there. There was a black curtain blocking off half of the room. I assumed this was where they developed the pictures. There were photographs and posters and cartoons plastered all over the walls. I assumed this was work they had done. Together, Separately?

How on earth did any of this work? What was I supposed to be doing here? It didn't escape my attention that there was no desk for me.

Creevy leaned back in his chair. He was dressed in muggle clothes – probably made it easier to get about like that if your job was to take pictures of everything, anytime and anywhere. There was a leather jacket of some sort of faded brown colour and such old jeans they looked like they belonged to a homeless man. In a good way. I didn't know anyone could pull off a look like that, but it was right there in front of my eyes.

Sanford on the other hand was wearing such formal robes, it looked as though he was late to a ball.

"Well, hello," I said quite lamely. "Um. How are you two doing today?"

Creevey didn't react. All he did was lean back in his chair and cross his legs over the table nonchalantly with a brow raised. The look on his face was slightly amused, if anything, as if I were a circus animal and he wanted to know what I would do next. Sanford, on the other hand, had an indescribable look on his face, somewhere between disgust and terror. I supposed it wasn't everyday he was forced into a room with a Malfoy. Or an ex-death eater. I wondered which terrified him more.

I knew his family had lost his muggleborn father in the war. Perhaps to him, the sight of me was akin to finding out your office was infested with rats.

"Right, well… it's nice to meet you."

"Pleasure," Creevey said.

It was slightly shocking. I remembered when he was a pipsqueak back at Hogwarts, nearly drowning in old Hagrid's cloak. Everything was different now. He was no longer a little boy. He had obviously finished Hogwarts just fine. I felt old, then, looking at him. He was proof that life moved on. Maybe I didn't want life to move on. Maybe I just wanted to go live in that forest.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sanford spat.

I took a step back. "Excuse me…?"

Sanford stood up with a dramatic flourish and Creevey just sat back and watched. I thought I might have seen him roll his eyes, which made me think that Sanford might do this all the time. But I could have imagined it. In any case, Sanford was stalking towards me with a murderous look in his eyes. I clenched my fists tightly against my side and made myself not move, to not raise my hands, and for fucks sake – _not retaliate. _I readied myself for the blow that was inevitably coming.

"You might have Greengrass fooled, but I know exactly what you are," Sanford said dangerously. He was about two inches away from me now with his finger pointed at my chest. At least it wasn't a wand, I thought with relief. At least it wasn't a knife. "You stay the fuck away from me, you understand?"

I hadn't even nodded yet before he was storming out of the office, but not without another flourish of his immaculate robes. I stared after him. Creevey snorted from somewhere behind me.

"So, should I stay the fuck away from you too?" I asked him weakly. "I mean…"

When I turned around, he was staring at me with his arms crossed across his chest. The look on his face was blank, as if he was sizing me up or wondering where he could bury my body. I couldn't tell. In a way, he was much more frightening than Sanford was. When he began to walk towards me, I did take a step back, and that gave him pause.

"Did you know my brother died in the war?" he asked. His voice was perfectly even.

"No…" I mumbled.

"That's okay. I didn't know you were even alive till last night. To be perfectly honest, I don't particularly care either" he said with a shrug. He passed me and picked up a bag that was left by the door. I hadn't noticed it when I'd walked in. "I don't care who you are or what you do when you're not here. I'm just here to take pictures. You can do the same and we won't have problems."

I nodded. "Yes, of course-"

"But if you fuck up, I'm going to have to get Greengrass to fire you." There was no maliciousness in his voice. It was just how he operated, apparently. I could respect that. "Got it?"

"Yes."

"Great. We've a shoot in half an hour outside Gringotts. Be there with the equipment," he said, turning around and beginning to walk away.

"Sorry, uh… _what _equipment?" Creevey rolled his eyes and pointed to a corner I hadn't noticed where there was a small mountain of cameras and shades and… was that a fucking floating lightbulb? "_All _of it?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No…" I cleared my throat. "No, of course not."

Creevey nodded and walked away.

When I got home that night, Nott was already tucked in bed. He raised his head to look up at me when I shut the door, his hair mussed, and his shirt half askew off his shoulder. I wondered whether he had been asleep or just restless. He took one look at me and got up to run the kettle.

"So how did it go?" Nott eventually asked gently.

I groaned and collapsed face first into bed.

**A/N: I'm just going to be upfront with you and tell you I don't know when the next chapter is going to be up. What I will tell you is that I've updated my profile with a life update – if you guys care for that sort of thing. Drop me a line and let me know how you're doing! Until next time, here is a spoiler: **

_When I saw her there, I think my heart froze. I thought I'd swallowed my own tongue and had begun choking – that, or I was dying. Yes, perhaps I was dying. _

**UNSIGNED REVIEWS: **

**Silver: **I'm glad you enjoyed it! Here is to happy endings… Also, thank you for the reminders. xx -M.

**Sora: **Though perhaps not permanently! It's been a busy couple weeks.

**Rambles: **I'm glad I could surprise you! You'll have to wait and see for what happens next. Though, as a heads up, we have about seven or eight major plot points to get through before we reach the end. What that means chapter wise, I'm not too sure. I'll let everyone know as soon as I have a clear indication. Thanks for reviewing!

**Guest: **Dear Guest, Your wish is my command! Granted, there must have been some kind of delay in the processing of your request… but we got there eventually. ; ) Sincerely, the Fanfiction Fairy.


	27. Otherwise Occupied

**A/N: **Hello lovelies! Sorry for the long absence. There have been a lot of things going on and I have had zero motivation to be writing. So this has been a work in progress in the literal sense.

This is also an odd chapter – I think you'll get what I mean once you've read it. I've been in somewhat of a strange mood these last couple of weeks. I think it's beginning to reflect on my writing. In any case, I hope you enjoy!

Thank you as always to the lovely reviewers: ElizaLane, Witbeyond, Elantil, Blue Luver5000, CrazyPhenom, PouleauPotter, Lady Moonglow, buttercup88, RoseLillyTulip, HarryPGinnyW4eva, BaekTara, Dancing-Souls, mithril, silver, Lioness1988, Katherinetaylor627, and Guest.

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: OTHERWISE OCCUPIED**

_**OCTOBER 2001: **_

All of it must seem surreal to you, but at that time in my life, everything _really _felt surreal to me. Things were different in ways I hadn't imagined they could ever be. I definitely had a new life. I just wasn't exactly sure that this was the life that I had wished for. When I think about it now, I wonder if I had even stopped to take a breath and appreciate that I was alive.

I don't know if I did appreciate that fact. I couldn't tell you. Some details are just lost to me.

I _can _tell you though the month of October was a colourful riot. I was everywhere all at once and I did everything. Every day, I woke up and took a breath before beginning a day of what would inevitably be a busy, bustling - but most of all - exciting rush. There was rarely ever a moment to sit down. Creevey really didn't roll that way. If I'm being honest, I don't think the kid knew how to sit still, he was just bursting at the seams with pent up energy. I was struggling just to keep up.

We were rarely at the office when we were together – which was often. Creevey was popular, apparently, and everyone who was anyone wanted him to take their picture. I was Creevey's right hand man, or whatever the photographer's equivalent is. I went where he went when he needed to be places. I didn't know this at the time, but we were visiting places and shooting things that had nothing to do with the Prophet.

If I had been smarter, I could've asked questions. But since I wasn't, I just did everything Creevey directed me to do, and we didn't have any problems.

It was really, really odd.

Perhaps it was the change of scene, or the fact that I had permanently stolen Nott's hat to hide my trademark Malfoy hair, but I wasn't harassed even once that month. Maybe it was because I was lugging around expensive equipment and hanging with Creevey that people assumed I was just another normal law abiding citizen. After all, Death Eaters didn't do things like that. No one in their right minds would allow Death Eater's to do things like that.

Creevey didn't put up with anyone's bullshit, least of all Mr. Greengrass's. I worked the hours Creevey needed me to work and didn't do a single thing other than that. When Creevey decided he didn't want to work Tuesdays anymore, he made it clear I wasn't expected to work Tuesdays either. When Creevey wanted to tear down the next office to enlarge the Media Room so that there would be space for me to have a desk, there was nothing Mr. Greengrass could do.

It seemed to me that Creevey did whatever Creevey wanted. I lived under his shadow and became his personal errand boy. But I think to Creevey, everyone lived under his shadow and everyone lived to be his personal errand boy. That was just the type of guy he was. I was no different. He talked to me like he talked to everyone else – short, curt, and to the point.

I think we got along quite well, actually.

When we weren't shooting, I was given the task of developing prints. Not the important stuff, mind you. Creevey did all of that by himself in case I messed up anything important with my inexperienced hands. But everything else – every meaningless thing that was sent over to our office in hopes of being published – I had to deal with. Creevey would then look through my sorted piles and then pick and choose what we would keep, which individuals we would contract with, and what we would trash.

Can you imagine why he was so eager to let me take over this task?

It was tedious, even if you had the help of magic. I spent hours in the Media Room behind that closed off curtain, developing prints and sorting through mountains of useless junk that would never in a million years see the light of day. They were long hours of solitude, dust, and ink stained hands. Sometimes it was back breaking, mind numbing work. Sometimes it was interesting. People were odd. You would be surprised at some of the things people thought were news worthy – or acceptable to send to a news publication.

I know a lot of secrets about insignificant people as a result. It's useless, but highly entertaining information. For example, there's a woman in Surrey who has been stalking her next door neighbour Gladis for the last twenty years. She has documented this woman's life down to the dots. She wants it published for some godforsaken reason. Gladis has had two affairs in the last five years. Mystery woman thinks that's a newsworthy story.

Gladis has no idea she's being stalked. Gladis should file for a restraining order.

But despite the strange stories and the sometimes dull work, I was happy. I was happy to be there, to have any work at all, and to be busy. I smiled easier those days than I ever had under Greengrass's thumb. I was always exhausted, but I slept well next to Nott all the time – every day of every week. I got a tan with all the exposure to the sun I was getting, out on those shoots with Creevey. Alright, I got burnt a lot, too. Comes with the territory of having skin like mine.

It was something. I supposed I felt like I was something. I hadn't felt like that all on my own for a very long time.

I even stopped having nightmares. Bulgaria was behind me. The war was over. And I was here.

I was finally here.

/

It was ridiculously late. I was very used to work long, hard days, but it was late even for me. The office was long deserted – even the cleaning staff had long gone home. I was still in the Media Room, behind that big black curtain, and half-heartedly sorting through piles of undeveloped photographs, amongst other equally useless things.

I had no idea what I was doing there. There was no reason for me to be there. Nott had asked me that morning to come home late so he could see Astoria in the evening with some modicum of privacy, but she would've gone home by now. Nott was likely asleep – or worse, wondering where the hell I had gone off to. But still, I stayed there. I felt compelled to just be by myself.

The silence was rather severe, thick.

I have this theory that silence is always the heaviest when it's dark. Have you ever noticed that? And it was dark behind that curtain in the Media Room. It had to be. Pictures only ever develop in the darkness. I find that very interesting, don't you? We come into the world out of the darkness of our mother's womb. The universe was dark before creation. Magic was naught but empty dark space before Circe brought it into being with a beam of light. And I think all of those things, before the inevitable bang of creation, must have been shrouded with silence. At least at one point.

Maybe all creation is created out of darkness and silence. Before us there was darkness and before darkness there was nothing. Maybe that's why it lives inside of us, too. It is undeniably a part of us all.

Maybe that was why I craved the silence, too. Maybe they're sisters.

As I stood there in the Media Room, curtained off from everything else and the rest of the world, I could feel the silence pressing down on me. Darkness was surrounding me. I breathed it in and it spoke to me. It asked me to create, to bring life into this world, and I had to obey. It was a primordial calling, the itch within our very souls to create, to be, to _do. _

As I was then, there wasn't much I _could _do. There was very little I could do to answer that calling. So I stood there in the middle of the night, developing pictures and sorting through piles of meaningless crap that was likely someone's life's work. I suppose it would've meant something to them– someone was dealing with it, after all, even if that someone was me. It wasn't _all _for naught. It had gone somewhere and something had been done with it – even if this was the last of it. Some things weren't created to be masterpieces or exceptional works of art. Some things were created to just be. And these things, as limited as they were, had _been. _

It was something. It was something for them and it was something for me. In a world like this, I think that's as good of an accomplishment as one can get.

I thought about it very seriously. I don't know why this is the case as I'm not a particularly deep thinker – which is part of the problem of all things in life, if you think about it. But I suppose I thought deeply at that point. Why were we here? Why was I meant to handle the most precious possessions of some struggling artist, when there was not an artistic bone in my body?

Is this really what I wanted?

I had to sigh at the ridiculousness of the question. I may have been a melancholic, broody sort of person, but I wasn't an idiot. Life was not about what one _wanted. _I knew that when I was eleven and I knew this now, too. Life was about choices and the most strategic outcomes of those choices. Granted, people don't make choices strategically. They make them through emotions and impulses, and that was why I was where I was. It wasn't about luck. It was about stupidity and irrationality.

But still. I think we as humans like to think about where we are and cry over it, muddle over our choices, and make the same mistakes all over again. I think this happens when we are extremely sad and equally as much when we are happy. We think over what's happening and marvel at the fact that we are there. And then, because we are masochists, we tell ourselves that there is more to be had, and ask _is this really what you want? _

In the end we decide that no, this wasn't what we wanted after all. Perhaps if we had aimed a little differently, we would have had what we had _really _wanted. We were happy with what we had achieved, but we wanted more. That's the thing with mobility. It's not the destination, it's the climb. We're addicted to the climb – _there_ _is no destination. _

And I was no different. I thought those things too. I thought about escaping while I developed that film, running away from here to find greener pastures. I don't know why I thought those things. I was happy. For the first time after the war, I was happy with what I had.

I suppose it just wasn't enough. I was greedy. We're all greedy.

Still, it was something of beauty, being there all by myself, entrusted with something of relative importance. Can you imagine what it was like to be trusted with something important, especially after everything I had done? It was amazing. I had basked in the feeling of it all month. It had made me heady and confident and bigger than I actually was. You know what kind of a mistake that is to make. Especially for someone like me.

It made me start to do stupid things, like staying back at the office at all hours without any care of what kind of suspicions that could raise. Or something stupid like brining out a wand that the Ministry had no idea I had – a wand that had no restrictions placed on it still. A wand that could easily get me tossed in Azkaban, before I could even explain that I had only ever meant well.

Still, it was worth it for the moment. Just pulling out my wand, feeling the rush of unrestrained magic flow from the tips of my fingers to the ends of my feet and into my very soul. It never got old, that feeling, and I wasn't ready to give it up just yet, even if that was a completely foolish decision to make. I guess being trapped with restrictions for several years just made you that much more sensitive to magic.

And boy, was it a rush. It was like being born again.

I swished my wand to renew the charms on the red lights, making sure the filters stayed strong. I don't know why it was, but that just made everything feel a little bit damper, more humid, just that much stickier. I wondered if they did that on purpose to make sure the pictures turned out better, or if this was just a side effect created as a joke to make me suffer in silence.

And then the real process began.

The magic helped, of course. It was a lot easier if you didn't have to do anything by hand. Touching the developing prints incorrectly could easily ruin the film in unanticipated ways. A little accidental nudge here or a little shake there, and the occupants could develop all mangled, or without limbs, or just not there at all. Still, you needed to cast these spells with a steady hand, or you would run into the same issues.

Still. I had been doing this for a while now. I considered myself a little bit of an expert. That night, even more so than usual, I felt confident in what I was doing. This was something I could _do, _after all. This was something I could potentially do well.

So I created. I created for hours.

"Well, aren't you rather dedicated?"

I thought my heart might have stopped right in my chest, so much so that I almost knocked over the tables I'd been working on. I had to physically remind myself to breathe and to be calm. I was allowed to be here. I was doing my job. I was doing absolutely nothing wrong. So, I forced myself to casually look over my shoulder. Creevey was standing there, appraising me. The look on his face was interested and curious, but gave nothing away.

"I… I couldn't sleep," I said, clearing my throat in what I hoped was a casual way. I pretended like this was something I did all the time and that this was entirely normal. Why wouldn't it be? "I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?" he said with a brow raised.

He didn't look at me, though. He was took busy looking around the room, at all of the piles I'd created. Maybe he was trying to see if I was up to no good. Maybe he thought I was stealing stuff – though what I could possibly do with any of these pictures, I had no idea. Maybe he realized that at the same time I thought it. I saw him slightly shake his head. But perhaps he hadn't meant for me to see it. I looked away instantly. He came to stand next to me, his hands on the table, and suddenly rifling through my most recently developed prints.

"Not bad at all, Malfoy. You could do with stronger filters, though," he said, tapping the bulbs above us.

"Too hot," I mumbled, embarrassed at the praise.

Creevey chuckled. "That it is. Worth it, though, for the end product."

"Yes, boss!" I said, half under my breath. I figured if I saluted, it would be a bit too much. So instead, I stood there awkwardly and stared at him. Not that that was much better. "Anything else?"

Creevey considered me a moment before turning back to the pictures. "Yeah. Bring these to the Flourish and Blott's shoot tomorrow."

I grabbed the package he tossed me. They were prints. I had no idea why anyone would need these at a photoshoot, but Dennis Creevey was an odd one. I didn't question his technique. I think this is why I was his longest standing assistant. It appeared the only other person Creevey could tolerate to work with was Sanford – which, I personally didn't get. I don't know how anyone could tolerate Sanford.

"Sure," I said. Creevey was done with me though and was pulling out his own film canisters now, which likely meant that it was now time for me to leave. Creevey didn't like to be interrupted – I had learned that fast. I quickly grabbed my things and began to leave, not wanting to get in his way. "See you tomorrow."

"Oh, and Malfoy," Creevey called to me without turning around. "Next time, try a clockwise twist when submerging the film. It should clear up the resolution."

"Sure," I said, already out the room. "Thanks."

I didn't realize the significance of his words until much later, not until I was tucked in bed next to Nott.

Creevey had seen me use magic. Creevey knew about my wand.

/

I must not have slept that entire night – not that there was much left of it, anyway. I was too nervous. Perhaps the craze of the entire situation prevented me from feeling petrified or maybe I just can't feel the terror of it anymore. It must have been deep, though. I imagined Aurors bursting through my door and dragging me away. I fidgeted so much, Nott eventually threatened to suffocate me with his new pillow.

I was so out of it, I paused to realize that Nott had bought himself a new pillow. What a luxury! I suppose dating the boss's daughter came with its perks.

When the sky lightened to announce the arrival of dawn, I couldn't bear to be confined to my bed any longer. I got up and got ready for the day, even though I didn't need to be at Diagon Alley till noon at least. The store was doing a grand re-opening. The doors wouldn't even be open until late afternoon. Still, the inactivity was making me even more jittery than I needed to be. I could feel it twisting me up into knots and strangling me.

I made breakfast and tea – I _never _make breakfast and tea was entirely Nott's job. Apparently I was useless at it as I am useless at most things domestic. Still, it was something to do, something to occupy my hands with until I had to leave and deny everything to my very last breath. It made no difference, though. I couldn't possibly stomach a single thing. I left it all for Nott, who probably wouldn't be able to appreciate it anyway.

What a stupid fucking thing to have done, though, waving my wand around like that where anyone could've found me.

After everything, to be caught _this way? _And by someone as unpredictable as Creevey at that?

I had no way of knowing what the boy would do. He might not care, which was probably unlikely. Even though he said he had nothing against me, he had to care that I was a Death Eater. He might have Aurors waiting for me there at Flourish and Blotts – though naturally they'd wait until after the shoot, because Dennis only had the one assistant – that assistant being me. Still, Creevey could hold this over my head for the rest of his life. For the rest of _my _life_. _

I don't know which of those options was worse. I contemplated it and mulled it over and dissected each option, but to no avail. I had no answer, even to the pointless questions I was asking myself. Why does that always happen? Why do we become speechless when we need ourselves the most? It's a terrible character defect to have, but I'm sure everyone suffers from it. Everyone except Herm-

"Alright, Alright, Alright…" I mumbled to myself. "Here is what you're going to do. You're going to go and pretend like nothing's happened. No. No-no. No. No. _No_! You can't do that. You're not gonna show up, are you crazy? Ah… but you have to go. Okay, you're going to confront him! No, wait. You can't do that. He can kill you. Alright… Alright, alright, alright. Here's what you're going to do -"

"Are you bloody talking to yourself?" Nott finally screeched, interrupting me. "What the fuck is _wrong with you? Do you have any bloody idea what time it is?" _

He had hissed that last bit, his eyes narrowed to slits. I would've thought he looked impressively dangerous, being all angry like that, only his hair was mussed and he still had creases on his face from the pillow. I couldn't help but break into nervous laughter, which only served to tick him off that much more. Or, you know, make him concerned for my wellbeing. Either way, he came over and smacked me upside the head.

"Thanks," I said, shaking my head, my eyes wide. "I guess I needed that."

"Are you going to tell me what the hell's going on?"

"No," I said gravely. It was better to leave him out of such things, I imagined. Vertiserum could not make you tell lies, after all. Only truths. "Absolutely not. I forbid it."

"Have you been drinking?" Nott demanded, grasping my shoulders and shaking me. "You have to _work _you imbecile! You can't show up _drunk!" _

"I'm not drinking," I said evenly, swatting his hands away. "What nonsense. What utter nonsense!"

"And you've made breakfast!" Nott exclaimed, storming through the kitchen with almighty purpose. "You know you're not allowed to make breakfast!"

"I'll do whatever the hell I please!" I screeched, throwing my arms up in the air with as much poise as such an action can allow. "And I pleased breakfast!"

"Like _hell _you will!" he shouted back, stomping his foot. Nott _actually _stomped his foot. I was so amazed, I forgot to be cross with him. "Do you have any idea how much that bacon cost?"

"Don't you _lecture me on bacon!" _

Nott was clearly going to respond with something as equally as witty, but there was a sudden loud banging on the wall. Our next door neighbour was slamming his fist against the wall we shared, clearly unhappy with our morning spat. He was yelling, too, probably shouting obscenities at us, but they were not loud enough for us to make out exactly what they were. It's too bad, really. I'm sure they would've only added to the ambiance.

Nott sunk down to the floor, leaning against the kitchen counter, entirely red in the face. And suddenly we were both hysterically laughing.

I sat down next to him with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

Nott just shook his head, waving my apology away with a flick of his wrist. "What's going on?"

"I worked late last night," I said with a sigh.

"So?"

"So, Dennis Creevey saw me do magic with my wand," I said, slouching down, hoping the floor would swallow me up. "You know, the wand I never disclosed I had to the Ministry. The one without any restrictions on it…"

"Well… fuck," Nott whistled.

I chuckled, even though it was humourless. I suppose that was why Nott and I were still friends. He didn't berate me for not having gone to the Ministry or for not doing the right thing. He just took it in with wide eyes and a shrug. I supposed if there was anyone I could've shared the last few months of my life with, Nott was the perfect person for it. He didn't judge. He didn't care. He was just as much an extension of me now as I was a part of his life.

"What are you going to do?" he finally asked.

"What do you _think_?" I countered. "I have to go to work. No other option, I guess."

"Well, it was nice knowing you, Malfoy," Nott said solemnly. "Thanks for the bacon."

"Don't mention it."

We shook hands and went about our respective days with no further talk about it.

/

I was almost calm when I walked through the archway to Diagon Alley. No one had stopped me. The bartender hadn't even looked up from polishing his glasses. Perhaps, though, that was because it was much too early to have a drink. I, on the other hand, wanted to disagree with such a sentiment. No time was too early for firewhisky. You made time for firewhisky or firewhisky wouldn't make time for you.

Or, that's why my father used to say, anyway. When he was really, really drunk.

I wondered why that had popped up into my head. I thought about it all the way to the bookstore. It was odd, really. I hadn't thought about my father once in the past couple of years. Why now? Was it because it was a likely possibility that I was about to get arrested? And then the circle really _would _be complete. I'd be rotting in a jail cell just like my father. Was the man even alive? Did he remember my name? Did he even care that I was out here, breathing, living the honest life that he had never had?

But again, I had no answers for my silly questions. I didn't even have time to answer them, because I was on site and Creevey had spotted me. All at once, I froze up. I think that he had a knowing look in his eye – as in, he knew that I knew that he knew about my wand. I was tempted to look around and play spot the Auror, but there was no time for that.

There was no time to do anything but follow Creevey's instructions when we were on a shoot.

It was better that way, being occupied. That way I didn't have to actively _think _about the likely possibility of incarceration. I only had to feel it growing in the pit of my stomach and crawling all over me like thousands of little ants, sticking their little teeth into my flesh.

If Creevey cared, he didn't let it on. He was as even tempered as usual. He didn't smirk, didn't give me any odd looks, didn't try and call the Aurors on me or anything of the sort. In fact, as per usual, he didn't even acknowledge my existence more than was necessary. But that was why we'd worked so well together so far. I did what he asked, when he asked it to the best of my abilities. And he… well, he took pictures. That was his job, I supposed, to take pictures and to be a demanding genius.

Everyone I knew fawned over him. Well, the general public tended to fawn over him. I suppose I saw the appeal. He was talented in a way that people just weren't any more these days. He had precision and an eye for things that people just couldn't see.

"Hey!" Creevey was shouting to someone. Immediately, I turned around, ready to berate anyone who dared messed with our equipment. "Granger! You're late!"

When I saw her there, I think my heart froze. I thought I'd swallowed my own tongue and had been choking – that, or I was dying. Yes, perhaps I was dying.

"I'm sorry, Dennis," she said approaching, hugging him, and smiling. I immediately stepped behind our lights, pretending to adjust things, but mostly attempting to hide the fact that my hands were trembling. "My flight got delayed. You know how it is…"

But god, that smile. How had I gone all these weeks without seeing that smile? I thought the stress of the day would make me faint. But I couldn't, I absolutely could _not_, considering I still had to work and that it would bring unnecessary attention to me. She hadn't seen me yet. Not unusually, she hadn't noticed my existence. That was a normal enough occurrence, but still, I was happy. I was thanking my stars and gods and whomever had given me such blessings.

"We're all ready to go, if you're ready to cut the ribbon," Dennis was saying to her. They stepped forward and exchanged some pleasantries or something of the sort. I couldn't hear anymore.

Of course she would be the honoured guest to cut the blue ribbon. Of course that made perfect sense. Who would be a better person to do such a thing other than the most glorious bookworm that had ever lived?

Blood was pounding in my ears. My muscles were trembling with nerves.

I squared my shoulders, pulling my hat down further on my head, hoping that would be enough to deflect attention away from me. It usually was, but one never knew with Hermione Granger. She did things that people didn't expect – especially me. She couldn't know that I was here. She could _not _approach me. It would ruin everything, everything that I had built so far. I was a house of cards and she was the northern wind. I just needed her to blow the other way – if only for a little while.

"This is what you've got to do, Malfoy," I mumbled to myself. "You just got to get through this and you're done. Then I'm not going to ask you to do anything else today."

_Promise? _

But it was harder than I had anticipated. She was beautiful. Her hair was shorter, all bouncy curls and chocolate brown. I knew it was soft. I knew it was soft from experience. I could almost feel myself tracing the curve of her jaw, the memory of it was that real now that I could see her. The warmth of her, her smile, her eyes… The way she had leaned towards me on that hill…

How disappointed she had been when I had left her at the Ministry.

How _I did not love her. _

"Lights two and three," Creevey instructed. "Little to the left."

She was wearing all white, which only made her tan stand out. I wondered where she'd been, how long she'd been there for. I wondered why I hadn't thought of such things until now. It _had _been odd that I hadn't seen someone as famous as her in the papers for so many weeks now that I thought about it. I hadn't noticed – I kicked myself mentally for not noticing such a relevant detail. But there she was now, all glowing and freckled. Was she staying? Would she be here often?

Perhaps she was just visiting. She did tend to do that often. Perhaps she was here on Ministry business.

Perhaps she was here to see me.

"That's fine there," Creevey said, waving me away. "Thanks Hermione. You're good."

She smiled and kissed Creevey on the cheek. I was still obscured behind the lights, so she didn't even spare me a glance. That made sense, though, as I was not worth that single glance. Thank god for the lights. Thank god she hadn't noticed me. She turned and walked into the store, no doubt ready to explore to her heart's content. The thought made me smile slightly. Once a bookworm, always a bookworm I supposed.

"Alright. I think I can deal with the rest by myself, Malfoy," Creevey said, sparing me a glance. "You can go after you've returned all this stuff to the office."

"Really?" I asked, stunned. Creevey never, ever had done such a thing. He always made me stay until the bitter end, until there was absolutely nothing else to be done. "But what about the inside shots?"

"Yeah. No one really cares about the inside of the store, anyway," Creevey said with a shrug, staring through the door. I looked to see what he was staring at and saw Hermione browsing through a stack of books placed on a table.

"Right," I said quickly. Suddenly I wasn't so eager to be here after all, especially not if I had to risk being seen by her again. "Uh. See you Monday."

"Bright and early," Creevey said with a raised brow.

I bolted out of there as fast as I could. It was only when I was placing all of our equipment back in their respective storage places that I remembered about Creevey and the wand. The anxiety of all of it came rushing in and I had to sit down, pressing my head into my hands to stop the world from spinning. It was too much. All of this was getting to be too much. I didn't know how I was going to do any of it anymore.

But I did. Somehow, I did.

That Sunday, I went to the Ministry for my monthly check in with the Death Eater Regulation Offices. I got my pay slip with my reparations cut off of it. I got the same bored look from the bureaucrat who couldn't give a damn about me or her job. I got to sweat a little and wait a lot. And then I got to go home to an equally worried Nott. I didn't get arrested. I didn't even get questioned. It was the same old procedure that it had always been.

Creevey hadn't ratted me out. It appeared Creevey didn't give a damn.

That Monday, I went to work, same as usual. No one said anything out of the ordinary. No one glanced my way, which was a customary practice. I did the work Creevey assigned me like I always did. I went on as I had been going. Things were just the way they'd always been so far.

But I hadn't reported my wand to the Ministry. I hadn't come clean. I didn't think ahead about my future. I kept that secret buried deep within me. I kept it a secret, even from Nott. It was too late for such things, I had decided. This was something that I was just going to have to live and die with.

I thought that perhaps I was free from it all, finally.

In the following days, I thought a lot about Hermione Granger.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! If you're curious about what's new with me, there's a hideously long update on my profile. Otherwise, here's a spoiler for next time: **

"_The wedding is this weekend, you know," Patil was saying. "I went with Hermione to look at dresses a couple weeks back. Poor girl was a nervous wreck – but we sorted the crisis out. She's going to look so lovely on the day…"_

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**Mithril: **I'm glad you're enjoying (And I love the name, friend). I will attempt to keep up with this – but you will have to be patient with me. Thank you for reviewing!

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	28. You're All that I Want

**A/N: **Hello lovelies! Fancy seeing you here. I've been MIA for months now and I apologize for that fact. This chapter (along with my life) has been a draining process. So I hope you enjoy it. I'm not entirely pleased with it, but I didn't think you'd want to wait for a re-write.

Thank you as always to the lovely reviewers: haisau, Elantil, ElizaLane, SimpsonSortia, Guest, Blue Luver5000, CrazyPhenom, HarryPGinnyW4eva, mithril, DeniiMalfoy, LoverGurrl411, highonstereo, Aearvir, Silver1995, elations, finkles89, Guest, Nim, SpecialAgentAlx, Guest, Mary, sejienneedscoffee, sv-29, PintofWine, Olllie, and Mrs Vincent.

Thank you for waiting for me.

_**Song Selection (and inspiration) for this chapter: All I want – Dawn Golden **_

**CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT: YOU'RE ALL THAT I WANT **

_**NOVEMBER 2001, **_

Suddenly, I saw Hermione Granger everywhere.

And she _was _everywhere. She was in the streets, the halls of the Ministry, in the pages of our newspapers, at every second shoot I had to be at, in the minds of every British citizen, and every conversation I had the misfortune of overhearing. It was sensational. I wondered if it was always like this or if I had only just started noticing.

But surely Hermione Granger had always been a celebrity. She was a war hero. It only made sense that she was now famous for it.

But still. I digress.

Somehow, everyone knew she had just gotten back from Australia, where her parents lived. I could believe that because the tan gave everything away. Everyone talked about the tan for some abysmal reason – maybe because the rest of us pale Brits were jealous. Still, the majority of the things were entirely inane, as if someone like that hadn't done anything of use for anyone. It was a tragedy. All anyone was interested in was how she glowed from the inside out, what she was wearing, who she was with, and just how much she was enamoured with Ronald Billus Weasley.

It's not like she wasn't a humanitarian and a scholar or anything like that. What a bunch of imbeciles.

Still. It was all anyone could talk about. She was spotted here and there with Weasley and had they secretly eloped just then? Why were they mysteriously out of the tabloids that one weekend? And when could we expect to hear the good news? What was taking them so long? It was… well, it was none of my business, truthfully. I avoided all of it. I only took in what I absolutely could not avoid.

It turned out that, being who I was, there was a hell of a lot that I couldn't avoid. It was frustrating. I had been so ready to forget all about her – and I almost had. I had stopped thinking, stopped dreaming, stopped _aching _at the thought of her. And here I was, back at it, destroying everything in my life and not even knowing, not even caring that she was crushing me and everything I held dear.

She saw me often, but she was a lot better at hiding her surprise and longing than I was. Perhaps she was expecting me there. Or perhaps she was just a better actress than I had ever given her credit for. It didn't matter though, because I was part of the crowd of her idolizers. Being who _she_ was, it was my job to follow her wherever she went, document her life in pictures and deliver it to the public. She grew more and more beautiful every time I saw her.

I grew more haggard every time she saw me.

It was terrible. I think it was worse than it had ever been before. Creevey and I were always after her, always at all these places where she would inevitably show up and grace the world with her presence. She and Creevey got along. She always said hello to Creevey, no matter how many other photographers were there – which didn't help matters, not at all. She didn't say hello to me, though, never directed any conversation towards me ever. But it was much worse than that. She would let her eyes drink me up and offer me that smile.

That _fucking _smile. All the time. Every time. That and nothing more.

I lived with that smile, then. It was my world and my sun and my moon. It haunted me and started to eat me up inside. I drank more firewhisky than I should have – almost every day. I stopped eating. I couldn't sleep, and when I did sleep, I always saw that smile – that fucking smile – and green. The green foliage of the forest we had both left behind and had decided to never acknowledge again.

But it was so much worse than that. She really _was _everywhere, even when she wasn't.

I still had the job of developing all of those goddamn pictures and things. Not so surprisingly, she was in _all _of them. _All _of them. It made me insane. _Insane. _I drank more and slept less, but nothing seemed to cure my insanity. It was like a bug digging its way through my brain. There was no cure for this virus that was burning its way through me. I was being consumed inside out and no one cared. No one who was supposed to care even noticed. I was stuck. I was stuck in this mess all on my own.

But I think Creevey knew everything. How he knew, I don't know. Maybe it was obvious to everyone or maybe it was plain as day – fuck, maybe he was omniscient, I wouldn't put it past him. He tried to spare me at first. He did most of the developing himself – and at first I didn't have to see any of the photos from any of our shoots. It was a small mercy. It endeared me to the eccentric man more than when he'd not had me thrown in prison, which is really saying something.

But it was to no avail. Soon, people were sending her in to our office, thousands of perfectly captured moments for me to recreate, for me to develop and obsessively stare at. And I brought her into the world over and over again. I saw her face constantly. I thought about her every second of every day and counted the minutes we had been apart.

I both dreaded and craved the next time I'd see her.

And then, she _would _see me. She would let her eyes run over me as if reminding herself that I too existed in her world. She would meet my unwilling gaze and then she would smile that perfect smile, just for me. I would let myself keep it, store it in my memory, and light myself aflame with it. It would fester inside me, heal me, burn me, destroy me – all at once – and in equal parts.

But it was strange. No matter how many pictures I saw of her, no matter how many pictures I developed, that smile just never looked the same as it was when it was directed at me.

/

It was a flurry of activity and commotion. We were in Diagon Alley again – it seemed like we were there every day, several times a day. It usually had something to do with Herm- Granger. Almost always, it had something to do with Granger. That was alright, though, I supposed. I never really did pay attention to anything anyone said. I just focused all of my energy, all of my attention on Creevey.

That helped a lot. You would be surprised at how much it helped. Creevey had this way about him, just this demeanor of aloofness that just demanded your complete attention. This usually meant that whatever he said was usually followed. If that meant that everyone in the room had to be entirely silent whilst he was there, then so be it.

I suppose that was one of the perks of the job. No one looked at me. No one spoke to me. And if Creevey wanted things a certain way, he got it to the letter. Somehow, he seemed to want things that worked perfectly for me – like walking away when Granger walked into a room or as soon as humanly possible for a photographer that had to capture her to make a living.

Though, of course, that is sometimes unavoidable.

I supposed those days I judged the excellence of my day based on how many times I was forced to see Granger. That particular day, we were in the office of Parvati Patil, for whatever damn reason. There was not a Granger in sight, much to my relief, and as far as I knew, there were no scheduled – or unscheduled – appearances. All of this is to say is that I was in a pretty great mood. By great mood, I obviously mean that I was not contemplating jumping off the roof of my apartment building at that particular moment in time.

It was great. I could even breath, relax, and not anticipate her every move, every tuck of her hair, and that smile. That goddamn smile.

I had arrived at the office early, a little _too _early as was generally my practice. Part of my job was to manage the equipment – could you honestly imagine someone like Creevey lugging around all this junk? He was too much of a character, too important to do such a menial task. OF course, he was also the type of guy that didn't like to be kept waiting, either. I had to make sure to be ready for him, wherever he went.

Patil had met me at the door, which was strange in and of itself. She had an assistant – Tracey Davis – because who didn't have assistants these days? There was cheap labour everywhere. There were lots of people just looking to work for free. But Patil was all hush hush that day, fluttering about, all stressed. I couldn't figure out for the life of me why that was the case. Tracey was nowhere in sight.

She was so out of it, Patil, that she didn't even recognize who I was. She just ushered me in and directed me towards her studio. Parvati Patil was a wedding planner, you see. I didn't particularly see what was so stressful about a job like that, but what did I know? I didn't know much about that life.

"Go set up over there," she said in a hush, waving me away with a flick of her wrists. I walked over to the wall she had pointed at without another word said. She seemed like the type of person who wouldn't hesitate to cut you with her tongue, and I preferred to operate in silence anyway. "We're running a bit late with the interviews so please try and _be quiet._"

I didn't see the need to give a verbal response to that.

Tracey Davis was standing by the wall, furiously taking notes on a clipboard. It was strange seeing her there. I couldn't count how many years it had been since I'd seen her last, or cared about seeing her. Perhaps 6th year? She gave me a small smile and a nod when she saw me, but mostly just stayed out of my way. When I glanced over at her clipboard, I realized she was trying to transcribe the interview.

I hadn't realized that the Daily Prophet covered weddings that extensively, but the interview was clearly all about the wedding that Patil was organizing. It was all sappy too – something about love that surpassed all difficulties, all adversity, and all that sort of nonsense. It clearly must have been for some high class people for it to be something this extensive, so in depth. Would it be on the front page? It made me curious. If I peeked around the corner, I saw two of our best reporters nodding through an interview with several Weasleys, Lovegood, and a Longbottom.

Well, then. That made sense didn't it? Anyone in Potter's crowd was bound to get royal treatment. But who was the happy couple?

I didn't have time to answer the question, because Creevey was suddenly there and I had to hurry the hell up and finish setting up for him. As soon as he arrived, Patil was in a flurry, clearly panicking that everything was so beyond her perfectly planned schedule. Everyone knew though. Once Creevey arrived at the scene, it was his moment, and everything else had to cease.

"Perhaps we can continue this while Dennis gets some of his work done?" Patil suggested, staring at the man in question in utter terror. Creevey just shrugged and motioned at me to bring forward the lights. Patil grinned and clapped her hands. "_Lovely_! Alright. Where would you like them?"

Creevey patted Patil on the arm. I supposed they must've been friends. Perhaps this was all just a large favour?

"I can count on you to be on time, can't I?" Patil asked him, with a worried look on her face. "Everything's so _rushed_."

"You do it so well, though, Parvati," he said, grinning his perfected grin. She blushed and smiled the smile all women smile when encountered with Creevey. Did she honestly not remember how he looked like when he was a kid? Though, I suppose, that didn't really leave me any room for moving up, either, if we were going by those standards. "How is everything, otherwise?"

They chatted about the details – or rather, Patil ranted about the details. I tuned her out mostly, until my attention was snapped back, as it always was when _she _was mentioned.

"The wedding is _this weekend _– you know," Patil was saying. "I went with Hermione to look at dresses a couple weeks back. Poor girl was a nervous wreck – but we sorted the crises out. She's going to look so lovely on the day…"

"I'm glad," Creevey said, and somehow managed to make it look sincere. "Sorry, Parvati, but I'm on a bit of a deadline."

"Of course," she exclaimed, smacking her forehead.

It was a flurry of activity for a couple of minutes as everyone tried to find where they were supposed to be, trying to arrange themselves so Creevey could capture the perfect picture he had clearly dreamed up in his head. I stood there, managing the equipment, until Creevey got irritated and had me leave him. Fetch me some water, he said. I am your loyal servant, I said. Or, such an exchange happened with not so many words.

As I stalked off towards the water cooler, trying very hard not to glare at Creevey's back as I went, I nearly collided into Tracey – who was standing outside Patil's office, talking to a very distressed Ginny Weasley.

"How is this _possibly _going to work out?" she said, nearly in tears.

Patil tried to calm her with soothing noises. "It's pulling together quite nicely."

"What do you mean!" Ginny exclaimed. "For godsakes, Hermione's _parents refused to come! _Do you know what size that makes the wedding party? It's a fuck-ing dis-as-ter!_"_

I was frozen in my tracks, a flimsy paper cup crushed between my fingers.

"You know that-"

"She doesn't even have a proper dress!" Ginny ranted. "I don't _care _what you cooked up last minute. She doesn't give a _fucking _damn! The wedding is on Saturday, Parvati! _Saturday_."

My heart had stopped. So, we were capturing Hermione's wedding photos. I wondered why she wasn't here for them. Perhaps Creevey had gone and done those by himself, being considerate of such things as he was. I felt drained all of a sudden. How could she get married? To who? So fast? I mechanically filled up a cup of water and mindlessly walked back towards Creevey and the hassled wedding party. Even though there was clearly chaos around me, I saw and heard nothing.

"You okay, Malfoy?" Creevey asked, barely sparing me a glass. "You look a bit green."

There were a lot of Weasley folk around. Was it Ron? Was she honestly… There was no doubt in my mind that that had to be the case. No wonder her parents had refused to come. That would've been why she'd gone to Australia. She must be so alone, so broken by their rejection…

"I feel a bit sick," I said honestly, trying to swallow around the lump of shock around my throat.

Creevey nodded absently, as was his way. "We'll be done soon."

I nodded back. I didn't have to tell him that we were done already.

It was all over.

/

Nothing was ever the same after that. I remember bits and pieces, all of them filled with something that was indescribably pitch black. I carried the weight of the knowledge within me, held it tightly balled up in my chest, and walked about ready to fall over. I fell over daily.

I was working late that day, like I always did those days. It had become some kind of sick routine. The office would slowly empty itself after six, besides those people who were responsible for the Evening Prophet. By nine, the only people who remained were the cleaning staff, and they were most definitely not allowed in the Media Room. The Media Room had become my home of sorts. Sometimes I even slept there, not that anyone really _knew _that.

For all Nott knew, I was off elsewhere, doing my own thing as I was won't to do. Sanford didn't acknowledge my existence during the day, much less during the evening hours – and Sanford couldn't bear the idea of staying in the office a minute past five anyway. I think maybe his dress robes were too tight. I think maybe he had no circulation – all the blood was trapped in his too thick head.

So there I was, in the dark room. I even stored a few changes of clothes there. I had gotten so good at developing prints that Creevey even allowed me to develop his. No one bothered going into the dark room that month besides me. Why would they? It was a dreary place. No one would _willingly _lock themselves up in it for an unreasonable amount of time. Doing something like that was just unnecessary.

Which suited me just fine, because most of what I did to myself was just unnecessary.

That day was no different than any other day that month – even though the knowledge of what was happening in the world had changed everything.

I was sitting cross legged on the floor, cradling a bottle of firewhisky in the crook of my arm. I imagined it was _her _head. Not that her head would bring me the kind of relief that firewhisky brought, but I can't explain to you how the drunk mind works. It's some kind of torture in any case. I don't know why we willingly torture ourselves. Well, I don't know why I willingly put myself through things I know are detrimental to my mental and physical well being. I just do. I don't know why, but I just do. Do you? Is this something you do too? Or am I an anomaly?

I had given up on working. Mostly because I had done all the important things that needed to be done. I wasn't even exaggerating this fact – I wasn't skiving off at all. We had a system – or _I _had a system – of sorting. And the pile that Creevey had designated the most important was all gone. The remnants of them were drying above my head as I sat there all morose and pathetic. The majority of it was spread out around me on the floor.

I sat there, surrounded by hundreds of pictures, all of her, all of her face, and her smile, and her poise, and her grace. It was all there, spread out, and taunting me. _You can't have her, _it said. But I just stared. I sat there, drank, and drank, and drank, and stared. For hours. I had done this every day since I had found out and I did this for hours upon hours. No one knew. No one has ever known. But now you know.

Talking about this now, remembering it for what it was, I'm a little surprised. I don't know why I was so anguished. Not really. She was never mine to begin with, you know, and on some level I recognized that. It didn't matter though. The heart wants what the heart wants.

It had something to do with the sight of her face, I think.

I don't know what it was, but it broke me. It caused a crack in my well thought out plans and quite literally brought me to my knees. It was because she was so soft and caring and I just was nothing of the sort. Maybe it was because she had cared and I had just been too scared to sacrifice everything I had for her. It was worse because she was never going to want me as much as I was going to want her. But none of that mattered, because I had shoved her away.

And now there was going to be no chance. Not now that Weasley had clearly claimed her.

I remembered the look she had given me as I walked away from here that day at the Ministry, right after she had rescued me from Weasley. It had been so heartbroken. So _crestfallen. _I remembered every single fucking smile she had given me since then. And yes. Yes, I had catalogued every single picture of hers I had come across, too. I had every picture I had ever developed of her. I had them hidden in stacks and piles and books. They were all shrunken into a tiny ring, which I wore on a chain around my neck.

I would cringe just to think of my actions. Which was why the thought was strictly off limits. It made doing all of these scary, obsessive things a lot easier.

Had she planned on being with Weasley all that time? Every time she had smiled at me, had she known she was going to be another man's woman?

It didn't matter, I supposed. I was never going to matter. She had sunk her claws into me and I just couldn't let her go. I couldn't _make _myself forget her.

If she knew what I was doing… If only she knew what I was capable of, she wouldn't give me those precious smiles every time she saw me. It would be a whole lot different. She'd have me expelled from the country. No, she'd have me tossed in prison, so I could rot in a cell next to my father where I obviously so belonged. Or worse, she would try to empathize and try to get me out of this sickness that was eating me from the inside out. Maybe she wouldn't get me to stop at all.

I wouldn't ever find out, because she never was privy to this information. I was pretty good at keeping secrets, always had been. I hadn't told a single soul what Potter had done to me in sixth year, for example. Or the fact that Snape had been in love with his mother, that Snape had kept a photo of Lily Potter in a secret compartment in the bottom drawer of his desk.

But, I digress.

The truth was, I was still a coward. I didn't know what to do with myself. I couldn't make myself go after her and I couldn't sit in this little hell I'd created for myself. Somehow, it would have to be enough. By Saturday it would be gone and I would have secured my freedom. What would Ronald want with little old me once he captured her forever?

Sighing, I got up off the floor, attempting to dust myself off and failing miserably. I supposed there was nothing to be done at this point and getting high off of print developing water wasn't going to help me any. I cleared up and hid my things as best as I could in the (dis)organized piles of work left to do and decided it was probably better if I went home and had a proper shower. It was time to move on, I realized, even if it meant using Nott's haphazard shower contraption.

But when I parted the thick, heavy curtains, someone was already waiting for me.

"I wondered when you'd decide to leave that stuffy old room. Do you ever go home?" He seemed curious. It was odd. He never asked such personal questions. What could I do? I just nodded. "Want a drink?"

He poured me one without asking. I cleared my throat when I took it from him. "Did you uh… need to develop something? I could, if you need-"

"No, Malfoy," he cut me off. He wasn't brusque like he usually was. "I'm here to talk to you, actually."

"Oh." I wondered, should I be sitting down for this one? He looked at me and I couldn't decipher anything of his gaze. I supposed, no one could decipher anything of him. I wondered when he had become such an enigma. "What about, then?"

"Greengrass has been happy with the work we've been doing," he said, staring at me dead on. It was unnerving, his gaze. I chose to stare somewhere above his shoulder. That helped some. "I'm going to tell him I'm giving you the position."

"I…"

"I know," he said, holding up a hand. But what did he know? I had no idea what to think. "You're worried about what everyone will say and how to deal with it."

I hadn't even thought of that. "I don't think it's such a good idea."

Creevey sighed. "Yeah, I knew you'd say that. I just don't get why."

"They'll eat me alive," I said quietly. I knew it was true. He should've known it was true. "I have to stay under the radar like all of us – I mean, the other people like me. They'll never let me get away with something like-"

"Look Malfoy," he said, standing up. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, because that's not the kind of person I am. But I'm giving you a chance here. These people, this fucking town, they're not going to let you go anywhere. I'm letting you get somewhere. Why wouldn't you take a chance like that?"

"Because I value my life?"

Creevey drained his drink and shrugged on his leather coat, the one he apparently never went anywhere without. "We're all going to the same place. Might as well make something of it while we're here."

"You know, by the standards some of us are living, I _have _made it."

"We both know you aren't going anywhere, trapped like you are," Creevey said. He pulled a pouch out from somewhere inside his coat. "I'm leaving the advance here. Take it or don't. Your first shoot is to be my second tomorrow at the Ministry. You can decide to take the job or not, but I'm not going to be offering again."

I nodded. He nodded back. It was the longest conversation I'd had with anyone other than Nott in forever and then some.

"Creevey," I called out, stopping him before he could leave. "Thank you."

I swore I could see him smile, but it was gone before I could catch it. "Don't let these fuckers clamp you down. It's what they do to everyone. Don't let them do it to you. Take the job."

"I'll think about it."

And then he was gone and all I had was alcohol and Hermione Granger's face.

He had a point, to an extent. After all, what is there to be said of the human mind that has not already been said before? The baseless insecurities that dominate the waking moment of every individual in existence will most likely illustrate to you the frailties of the human psyche. We plague ourselves constantly with fixations of grandeur and success, of love and pleasure, of excess and beauty. But really, much of these things are out of our grasps and what little we do possess is turned into ashes on our tongues, turned bitter by the prospect of life's denial of our desires.

What a cruel world.

Creevey had placed the possibility of moving up in my hands. I had to admit I liked how it felt. But all I wanted was her. There was nothing I wanted more, not even freedom, not this possibility of success. And now, after everything I had done to rid myself of her, to secure that freedom… It was all meaningless without her.

It's the acrid taste of bile that wakes us up to the notion that we aren't as we should be. And I was _not _as I wanted to be. We suffer to think that there must be more to this existence than the hamster wheel we spin on – but it's endless and from this nightmare of a domain there is no exit.

And our soul blackens with such propositions.

So, we let our immature infatuations develop and settle in for the pursuit of unhappiness, because we are creatures of habit and addiction. I continued working like a beast and drinking like one, too. No one noticed, I realized, because they were copying me – hiding from their own demons, the things they could not have, and sticking to the things they thought would make them whole, or whole enough to continue this pitiful existence. There is no greater addiction than the trap that is this world. It's filled with distraction. In it we drown and in it we bury ourselves until, like quicksand, it gives way and we suffocate.

At the end, we strip ourselves of everything and surrender to the meaningless void that has been waiting to claim each and every one of us since the day we took our first breaths. And we ask ourselves – what have we done?

I shall say nothing. I was ready to forfeit. We have done nothing.

What was the point of taking the job or not? In the end I'd still have nothing because I wouldn't have her.

/

I was there with Creevey the next morning at the Ministry, bright and early, familiarizing myself with his old camera. When he saw I'd made my decision, he clapped me on the shoulder, and graced me with my very first smile. I wondered what I'd done to deserve it, but I never asked. He never offered, so I never found out.

I worked so hard learning this new job for the rest of that week that it seemed like Saturday was before me within a blink of an eye. But when it dawned on me, when the realization sunk in that what I'd been avoiding for the last couple of months was finally here… well, I didn't quite know what to do.

I was in the apartment. Nott was in the kitchen, blathering about something as he usually was – seriously, did the man have an off switch somewhere? – when it occurred to me. And all I could do was quietly fold into myself and sink to the floor. My legs gave out slowly. That was a relief, at least. If it was going to happen, at least I could sit here without any great injury.

It took Nott a whole five minutes to notice I wasn't standing there anymore.

"What in Merlin's name are you _doing_?" he finally questioned, standing before me.

"I'm mourning," I muttered. And I was. Sort of. Could you mourn something that wasn't yours to begin with? But the delusional mind does what the delusional mind wants. Today, I supposed, I was going to sit here and let it happen. "I'm sitting down."

"…In the middle of the floor?"

"In the middle of the floor," I repeated, nodding my head, not really looking at him.

I didn't have to look at him as he shrugged and walked away. I already knew what kind of expression he would have plastered on his face. Nott was nothing if not predictable. By now I was so familiar with him that I'd memorized all of his reactions to all possible scenarios. They were rather limited: confusion, incredulity, excitement, and horror. I suppose it made _my _life easier. I always knew what to expect from him. Besides, he had a shit poker face. Anyone could see right through it.

I counted down the seconds. It took him exactly five more minutes to come back and kneel down in front of me. "What, are you just going to sit here all day?"

"Yes," I said, but I thought about that for a second. My body didn't feel like moving. It seemed like a reasonable guess. "Yes."

"In the middle of the floor?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"_Why_?"

"I'm in shock," I offered with a shrug. That seemed like a reasonable enough of an explanation.

"Oh," he said, falling silent for a moment. And then, "well, do you need me to slap you?"

I looked at him then. The expression was somewhere between excitement and confusion. I could understand the confusion, but the excitement was a bit annoying. He wasn't _meant _to enjoy the idea of slapping me, as if it was something he had aspired to do for years now. But I supposed I couldn't control what he thought and how he thought it.

"If you slap me, I'll poison your tea," I said slowly. "And I won't take you to St. Mungos afterwards."

He nodded, as if that was a perfectly reasonable response. I suppose between us, that _was _a rather normal response.

"Well, what's wrong then?"

"The wedding's today," I said with a sigh. And then my body told me to lay down, so I did. Nott's expression was upside down in my vision, but I could clearly see it move more so in the direction of confusion. "It's all over."

"What's all over?"

"Granger's going to be gone after today," I said, trying to keep my voice even. I clearly failed, and Nott raised a brow at it, but didn't comment. "She's going to be Weasley's now."

"Why?"

"What kind of an idiot question is that?" I said, sitting up all of a sudden. "It's a _wedding_."

"Okay…" Nott said slowly, getting up and brushing the non-existent dust from his knees. "Well, I guess that means you should move on, then."

"_Move on_?" I called after him. "What the fuck do you think I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're sitting on the floor like an idiot," he retorted from the kitchen.

It dawned on me that he was making a perfectly good point. Not just because I was sitting on the floor like an idiot, but that this was a completely idiotic response to all of my problems in life. I had always just been sitting around all my life, letting things happen to me. I'd let my father dictate my childhood, my ego dictate my teenage years, and now cowardice was dictating everything else. I couldn't tell you how long I'd lived under that shadow, under the weight of self preservation, of things I was _supposed to be doing. _

How many times was I supposed to just sit on the floor and let it happen? Maybe forever. I had to accept who I was and what I was capable of, which was not much. Not much at all. Maybe I was always destined to play this part. Every story needed this kind of a character. Maybe in this life, for the people around me, I _was _that character.

But did that mean I had to sit on this kitchen floor, like I'd sat in that bloody room of lost things, and watch as other people got what they wanted? I was a pawn, yes. I was never going to argue that point. That's just the way things were and the way things were always going to be. But pawns had free will, too. I had choices. I had _made _choices. I could play my part and make different choices.

I stood up slowly, this odd determination filling me, and strengthening my bones. It wasn't warm and it wasn't inspirational. It was just a resolution that I _had _to do something to get myself out of this monotony I was living in. I had to do something for myself for once. Creevey was right. No one was going to give me a leg up. I had to take what I could get and be happy with that. I grabbed my coat and my press badge.

"Where are you _going!_" Nott shouted after me.

"I'm going to change my life!" I shouted back. "Granger owes me a bloody goodbye!"

I could hear him calling me a bloody idiot before the door slammed shut and I was on my way to get that boost up. Maybe I could be doing things in the world after all.

/

"This is a private event, sir," one of the security guards spat in my face.

"I'm very well aware of that," I said for the fifteenth time it felt like. In reality it was probably only three. "I'm with Dennis Creevey. I work at the Daily Prophet. _He _works at the Daily Prophet! Do you have any idea who he is?"

"Course I bloody well know who he is," the guard muttered, trying very hard not to throttle me. I could see it in the way that his fists were clenched and the veins in his neck were bulging. "Don't know who you are, now do I? Now get off these stairs before I call reinforcements."

I shoved my press badge in his face. "I'm a photographer!"

"Where's your camera, then?" Shit. He had a point. Why hadn't I thought to stop by the office and pick up my camera? That would've made my story more credible. The guard snorted. "I thought so."

"My camera's with Creevey," I tried again desperately. But I could see even as I said it that he wasn't going to budge. "Come on. Just go in and ask him."

"Right, that's it." The guard turned around and motioned to his pals to come deal with the threat that was obviously me. What bloody nonsense.

"No need," I started, putting my hands up and backing away. "But if I get fired, I swear I'm gonna come back and haunt you until you regret this!"

"Yeah, yeah," the guard muttered rolling his eyes, then, "Get off the fucking stairs."

I walked away, trying my best not to seethe. Of course there would be security to keep out the riff raff like myself. How could I have forgotten something like that? And of course Granger was not going to put someone like me on the guest list to her wedding. But what was I supposed to do now? There was no way that the surly old guard was going to let me in and I wasn't particularly in the mood to get arrested. Or beaten up. Or losing my newly secured job. Should I just go home? Perhaps it was best if I just went home. I'd tried and surely that was enough.

But no. I knew immediately that it wasn't going to be enough. That same sure energy flooded me, the same way I'd felt back at the apartment. I had to _do _something. If I didn't, I'd never be content with what I had, what I was currently living with. I had to try and get her to see me so I could continue living with her perfect bloody smile.

I ambled around the church, steering clear of all the main entries that were obviously cordoned off and had security guards posted. I supposed I could try my luck with a different guard. They couldn't _all _be as unsympathetic as that mean old bat out front. But I didn't feel like risking it.

Instead, I did the second most obvious thing I could possibly do. I pulled my ugly cap out of my back pocket and did up all the buttons on my coat, hoping I looked the part. Walking up to the back staff entrance, I knocked until a hassled looking woman opened the door.

"I'm here to pick up Mr. Creevey's package," I said to her hassled _what_? "Sorry I'm late. Traffic's been a bloody _mess, _you know…"

"What package?" she exclaimed. "We don't have any packages."

"Creevey said, be here at 12:00 PM, pick up his equipment to be moved to the reception," I said. It was the best lie I could come up with, given the circumstances. It was the best I had to offer and the most realistic. "I mean, you could go ask him, but he might flip at you. We're late as it is. You met Creevey? He'll skin me alive, if you know what I mean."

She seemed uncertain but the story was too plausible to ignore. Creevey was notoriously surely. Everyone knew he had his assistant with the ugly cap move all his stuff everywhere. I'd been working for him long enough that people knew who I was, even if they didn't know my name and the rest of it. Not many people were aware of my recent promotion that Creevey had bestowed so graciously upon me. I hoped he didn't find out I was using his name to get into places I wasn't supposed to be. I hoped this didn't compromise everything.

"Fine," she said. "But don't take too long."

"Course," I responded. "Do you think I want to get caught being late?"

She had no response to that. Instead, she walked away, probably expecting me to follow. I had to physically stop myself from jumping up in joy and whooping. Not that I was normally the type of whoop, but some scenarios just called for such things. What could I say?

It was all for naught.

I could see a woman draped in white hugging a happy Potter, with Weasley standing by. Their grins were so wide, I thought their faces might snap with the pressure of it. All the guests were pushing them forward, out the doors, and out of the church. The wedding was clearly over. I saw a flash of curly brown hair and then the group of people were gone. Creevey was probably out there, capturing all of it. I supposed it was probably for the best if I just _didn't _engage.

After all, I'd tried. This was going to have to be enough. She was with Wealsey now and her friends had carried her away. I didn't really know what I was expecting from her anyway. I didn't _really _know what coming here was supposed to have accomplished. But I'd tried. That was something. I hadn't sat down and taken it. I'd done something about it. Right?

Right.

I went and sat down in one of the pews, staring up at the stained glass windows. I felt a little heavy and a little light all at once. All these months, I'd been longing after someone that hadn't longed after me – not that I should've ever expected her to do something like that. I had wanted her, I realized. I had wanted her more than I'd wanted to keep my parents alive. I felt disgusted admitting that to myself. After everything, trying to do something about it made me feel like I was capable of finally letting it go.

Maybe not today, and definitely not tomorrow, but one of these days I was going to be able to let it go. All it was going to take was the strength it took to get up from the floor and refuse to take it anymore. It was going to happen one day. The thought made me smile. Maybe I was strong enough after all.

I heard footsteps coming into the church and froze completely. I sunk down into the pew and hoped that whoever it was wouldn't notice me. Being caught here was probably a bad idea – though what were they going to do? Kick me out? Arrest me for crashing a wedding? Yeah, probably. Probably.

Suddenly, I saw a girl in a cream dress and big curly hair. It was her.

It was _her. _

What the hell was she doing here?

She seemed to be looking for something, first around the pews and then up near the front, maybe where the ceremony had been held. Perhaps she had lost something. Perhaps she had lost the ring. Perhaps Weasley was waiting for her outside so they could apparate somewhere so they could be alone together. The thought made me cringe. I was out of my seat before I could finish the thought, caught between making my way to the door and between staring at her perfect head.

I supposed the fates had given me this opportunity, the thing I'd worked up all that courage for. I suppose you shouldn't look down at things that are handed to you. Creevey came to mind and I realized he had never been more correct. I had to take things for myself. I couldn't let the fuckers hold me back. I was going to make her say goodbye to me properly. I left the door behind and walked up to her.

"Looking for something?" I asked her when I was right behind her.

She startled, her small little hand flying to her chest. "Draco! What are you doing here?"

"That's a good question," I said before I could stop myself. To be fair, it was. I didn't know _exactly. _And I couldn't just come right out and say stop fucking smiling at me all the time woman and let me just photograph you in peace. So instead I went with, "What are you doing here?"

She paused, as if not sure how to take in my odd behaviour. To be fair, neither did I.

"I'm uh… the bride lost her earing." I raised a brow. She had both her earrings in, I noticed. Delicate little things. Hermione smiled brilliantly. "Ginny and Harry had to catch their portkey for their honeymoon, and I promised her I'd find it for her."

"Potter married Weasley?" I asked stupidly.

Hermione nodded. "It was lovely."

Well that made a lot of sense. Of course Potter would be marrying Weasley. They'd been together for forever. Why hadn't _I _thought of that?

"So… where's the other Weasley?" I asked, continuing my stupid streak. The question left me painfully awkward. I wish I could just make myself stop talking. "He must be waiting for you."

"Ron?" she asked, confusion plain on her face. "Why would he be waiting for me?"

"You're together aren't you?" I could feel my face turning a brilliant shade of red. My survival instincts told me to _please, shut the fuck up, just please. _But this was what I was here for and for some reason, I just couldn't. I had to ask her. "You're with him now, aren't you?"

"No," she said patiently. "I'm not with Ron. I'm not with anybody."

"Oh." I could feel my heart in my throat at the way she looked at me. Her eyes were big and round, her lips all soft and perfect. "Why not?"

"What are you doing here, Draco?"

"I, uh…" She wasn't smiling. She was perfectly serious and that made it so much more difficult. "I came to see you."

"Why?" She stepped closer, maybe unconsciously. It was as if she didn't even blink. "I thought maybe you'd never want to see me again, after the Ministry…"

"I'm sorry," I whispered automatically.

"I'm sorry, too," she said. Her smile then was very sad and I could see her shutting down on me. It was calm and careful, all consideration. I immediately hated that. I wanted all those open moments we'd had before, the moment's she'd given me freely and thrown away. "I really hope you're doing better now."

I gently grabbed her before she could turn and walk away. "I am, thanks to you."

"I'm glad," she smiled, but she didn't pull away. In fact, I swear she was leaning closer. "And how's Nott doing?"

"I'm not here to talk about Nott," I mumbled. Having her so close did something to my nerves. It was all electricity and pins and needles, up and down my hands, wherever I made contact with her. "I'm here to talk about you."

"What about me?"

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since the day I left," I admitted.

Suddenly there were tears in her eyes and she was looking at me like I was some kind of special nut case. I didn't know what to do, but her hands were on my chest. Something told me that if I moved, if I dared to leave her like this, I'd regret it for forever. Instead, I took my chances. She might hit me, she might shout for help and have me dragged away, but I wasn't going to get another chance like this. I gently cupped her face and stroked her cheeks, leaning as close as I possibly dared.

She sniffed. "I haven't stopped thinking about you either."

"Sad thoughts, then," I nodded, solemnly.

She chuckled sweetly, that perfect laugh I'd somehow memorized. "I'm sorry."

"I wish I had a napkin or a pocket square or something," I said with a shrug, moving my hands to her shoulders, _as if they fucking belonged there or something. _"Guess I'm not that posh."

"I don't want you to be posh," she admitted, her eyes round, and her face once again serious.

"What do you want, then?"

"I…" She turned away. "I can't ask that of you."

We stood there in silence. My thumb was against her neck and I could feel her pulse beating wildly. I was curious. What could such a girl want from something of me? It made me flush with heat, the kind of heat I'd refused to feel when she was pressed up against me and sleeping soundly on a forest floor. I wondered how I'd found myself in this place. I could've still been sitting on the floor, all hopeless. Maybe Potter had had the right idea all these years: those who do, get.

Could I possibly get?

"Hermione," I said, tasting her name on my tongue. I hadn't allowed myself to speak it all these months, not since… She turned her head and looked up at me, a tear still clinging to her lashes quite prettily. "You can't ask it of me, but you're all that I want."

And it was true. I realized it as I spoke it. She was all that I needed.

Her lips parted, and she exhaled, the shock still clear on her face. And then she was leaning forward and up, her soft lips pressed against mine, tasting me as I tasted her. Her fingers wound themselves in my hair and I nearly collapsed from the heady feel of it. I didn't know what was happening. I still couldn't tell you what happened. We must've been there for minutes, for hours, or days.

We didn't see the shadow at the church doors where Ronald Weasley stood, fuming. After all, with a girl like that, she was all that he wanted, too.

**A/N: Let me know what you thought! If you want to know what's been up with me, there's an update on my profile. Alternatively, I have snapchat now. You can follow me if you like at pogalast. Don't expect anything miraculous, though! Until next time, here's a spoiler: **

"_What do you mean, you don't like strawberries?" _

_Watching her lick some of that juice off her fingers made me pause and stare for an obscene amount of time. "Well… now I do. I certainly do." _

**Don't forget to review! **

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